


Isla Deseo

by onlyastoryteller



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hidden Feelings, Light Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Pining, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Getaway, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 70,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyastoryteller/pseuds/onlyastoryteller
Summary: Timmy wins a vacation on a brand new resort island, and invites Armie along. The catch? It's a couples-only resort, and they are definitely not a couple, no matter how much Armie wishes they were.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueishdesire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueishdesire/gifts).



> Oops. I wasn't supposed to start a new story, but then whatitis-inside (blueishdesire) posted a trope prompt on Tumblr. Since I adore her and want her to be happy, I decided to give it a try, and _this_ is what happened.
> 
> It should be a relatively short work, only a half dozen chapters or so. Of course we know I'm always wrong about that.
> 
> Fluff and fun and tropes. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> 100% fiction. Probably.

As the tiny plane began its descent, Armie tuned out the tinny voice of the Captain and peered out the window, wondering if the way his stomach was flipping around had to do with the motion of the plane or with what he was about to get himself into.

What he saw was magical, in a way — there were those impossibly blue Caribbean seas the Captain was droning on about, speckled with islands small and large — and if he hadn’t grown up on such an island and returned to it year after year, the view may have impressed him more. He searched the shapes of the islands, some barely more than a half mile across, curious as to which was _Isla Deseo_ , his destination for the weekend.

Somewhere down there, waiting for him at what was sure to be a rinky-dink airport, was his best friend and the unwitting love of his life, whom he hadn’t seen in person in four months.

Armie’s stomach flipped again as soon as he had the thought. _Damn_ , he mused. _Not the descent, then._

He tried to imagine what Timmy would look like when he landed. He knew what he _looked_ like, of course, since they still FaceTimed daily...wild dark curls, growing longer each day, that simply wouldn’t behave; a slightly crooked mouth with slightly crooked teeth; eyes that were always a different shade of green. But right now, at this second? Maybe he’d be wearing a fitted black tee that showed off his lean torso, a pair of jeans that were too big so he’d have to keep hiking them up around his waist as he walked, the cuffs rolled high enough to reveal yellow socks with...who knows, maybe avocados, on them. Or would it be tan cargo shorts and a white hoodie, since he always seemed to be cold but only on top?

Armie swallowed. There was no denying it, he was completely gone on the kid, had been for years. It was finally admitting that to himself, how much he felt for Tim beyond platonic friendship, that had made him face some things about his life that he had been carefully ignoring for years. Like the demise of his marriage, for example.

Elizabeth had understood. She’d been surprised it hadn’t happened even earlier, knowing full well that having a second kid was a desperate attempt to try to make something happen again between them. It hadn’t worked. They both knew it. Which was why, a few days ago, he had finally signed divorce papers and was a free man.

Not that that amounted to anything, as far as his romantic life went. It wasn’t like he was going to confess his feelings to Timmy or something. The kid had no clue that Armie was besotted with him, no idea that Armie stroked himself to visions of Timmy every night, that he heard his voice in his head as he came. He didn’t know that, to Armie, what they had experienced in Crema was the _truth_ and not just pretend. Didn’t know that Armie had actually fallen in love, and that him saying those words in interview after interview wasn’t just hyperbole or a figure of speech, but instead was raw honesty.

And Tim could never know, because Armie sure as hell wasn’t willing to risk losing Tim from his life. Which was exactly what would happen once Tim realized what Armie thought about every time they talked, every time they saw each other. He’d run for the hills. Sure, he’d be nice about it, and _pretend_ that they could still be friends, but it would never ever be the same.

That might just kill him.

Armie sighed. This kind of thinking was why this weekend was such a monumentally terrible idea. He should have told Tim no when he proposed it, should have said he was busy. What was he thinking, spending the weekend with the kid the media liked to “ship” him with only a few days after his divorce was final? Running off to a Caribbean island getaway, no less? What if he drank too much and said too much? He was tempting fate, was what he was doing.

But when he tried to say no, he found he couldn’t do it. Timmy had looked so _excited_ as he described it, his eyes the color of overripe limes, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, the picture on the screen bouncing because _Tim_ was bouncing in his seat.

 _“It’s supposed to be a really great place, dude. It’s brand new and super extra luxury. I can’t believe I won a whole weekend there and — I know you can, like, afford to go to these places whenever but I don’t_ win _things like this and I’d really like to go—”_

_“Explain it to me again,” Armie had said, rolling his eyes. “You entered a contest?”_

_Tim’s eyes darted to the left and then back. “Yes,” he said. “I don’t know why I entered. I was high, I think, and sort of poking around online and found this contest and just entered it as a joke. But then I won, and now I really really want to go.”_

_“I don’t know,” Armie had hedged. At the time, he knew his divorce was finalizing that week, and was already worried about the optics of a weekend away right after that. But Tim didn’t yet know about that. He knew about the divorce, but not the timing. “Maybe there’s someone else you’d rather bring, someone who—”_

_“I want_ you _,” Timmy had said, a little too forcefully. “I mean, I want you to be the one to come. We haven’t seen each other for real in forever, and I bet no one on that island will even know who we are. We can go incognito. It’ll be a chance to, like, just chill together and not have to worry about anything.”_

_Armie licked his lips. “That does sound like fun,” he had said. “And I do want to see you.”_

_Tim’s face lit up, and he grinned wide. “Then just say yes,” he had said. “Please, Armie? I...I miss you.”_

_Armie’s heart had swelled at that, and he found himself nodding at the screen. “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”_

So here he was, about to touch down on _Isla Deseo_ , the newly opened Caribbean resort, for a weekend in close quarters with the man he wished with all his heart was more than a friend.

This would be fine. No problem. He could do this.

* * *

It turned out Armie was almost right about Tim’s clothing choices. The cargo shorts were khaki, the socks were pink, and the tee was long-sleeved and black...with a hood.

When Armie stepped into the air-conditioned terminal building, suitcase in hand, he couldn’t help but smile at the picture Timmy made. He was slumped down in a hard plastic chair, his right ankle resting on his left knee. The hood was pulled up over his curls, and one black string was tucked between his teeth. His face was buried in his phone, and he looked stressed, little lines showing between his eyes.

Armie wished that he could wipe away whatever was stressing the kid out, but otherwise, the sight of Tim here, in the flesh, only twenty feet away, was enough to simultaneously send frissons throughout his body and also make every tense muscle release into a state of contentment. It was always this way around Timmy: a perfect combination of comfort and excitement.

After staring a moment longer, he strode forward, calling, “Timmy.”

Tim’s head snapped up, and he grinned, letting the damp hoodie string fall from his lips. He sprang to his feet and bounced on his toes as Armie got closer.

“You’re here,” he said, pushing the hood off of his head and letting the curls spring free and wild around his face. “I...how was the flight?”

“Not bad.” Armie set his suitcase down and hesitated only a second before opening his arms wide. A hug was fine. A hug was normal. A casual, bro-style hug.

Tim didn’t hesitate at all, and launched himself forward. He jumped up and slung his arms around Armie’s neck, and without thinking, Armie wrapped his arms around Tim’s narrow waist and lifted him up, pulling the entire length of his body close. He felt Tim’s nose in his neck, and immediately buried his face in Tim’s curls. It was pure instinct, muscle memory, the result of having made the same exact physical motions hundreds of times over the past few years. He inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent that was all Timmy: a fruity shampoo, mixed with a hint of musky sweat and an underlying sweetness that reminded Armie of traces of honey in a cup of green tea.

“Fuck,” Timmy mumbled into Armie’s neck.

Armie loosened his grip, and Timmy let go as well, sliding to the ground. He took a small step back and snaked a hand through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.

“What’s the matter?” Armie asked, suddenly concerned.

“Nothing.” Tim shook his head. He tucked a curl behind his right ear in that way that always made Armie want to trace the path of those fingers with his tongue, then sighed. “I knew I missed seeing you, I just didn’t realize how _much_ I missed you until just now and it...I guess it overwhelmed me for a second.”

He was blushing, Armie realized, seeing the pink tinge on Timmy’s neck. He didn’t blush like a normal person, with his cheeks lighting up. Instead, the flush crept up his neck slowly and onto his ears, and eventually created irregular pink blotches on his cheeks if it went on long enough.

“You see me constantly,” Armie pointed out. “We FaceTime every single day. Sometimes more than once. For _years_. I’m surprised you aren’t sick of me by now.”

“I know, but it’s not…” Timmy rolled his eyes. “You’re right. I don’t know what I’m talking about. That your stuff?” He gestured lamely towards the suitcase at Armie’s feet.

“Tim. I’m kidding. I know what you mean. About missing you.” Armie reached out and shoved at Tim’s chest lightly, then tugged at a wild curl. “See? I can’t do that on FaceTime.”

Tim’s shoulders relaxed, and he grinned. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get a cab to the resort.”

Ten minutes later, they were wedged into the back seat of a tiny yellow cab. Armie’s knees were shoved up towards his chest, and he had to tilt his head slightly to the left in order to not whack it on the ceiling every time the cab hit a bump in the road. Which was frequently, considering that it seemed few of the roads on _Isla Deseo_ were paved.

He supposed he could have sat in the front seat, but Timmy had crawled into the back and scooted over to make room for him, and he just couldn't pass up the opportunity to have his hip and shoulder pressed against Timmy for the entire ride.

This was going to be a long weekend, especially if he was having trouble resisting already.

As they bumped along, Tim fidgeted, picking at a thread on his shorts, crossing and uncrossing his arms, fiddling with the hoodie strings. Finally, Armie let out an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, out with it,” he said. “What has you all tied up in knots?”

Tim glanced at him sideways, and then looked away. He chewed on his bottom lip. After a minute, he said, “I kind of have a confession to make. About this weekend.”

“A confession?” Armie asked.

“Yeah. See, I kind of, well. When I entered that contest I was...pretty fucking drunk. I think I thought it would be funny. I was going to tell you I did it and we would laugh about it, but when I woke up the next day, I had forgotten all about it. Until I _won_ , and then I remembered.”

“You told me this already,” Armie said. “Except the funny part. What’s funny?”

Tim let out a breath. “Please don’t be mad at me,” he said. “I didn’t say anything before because I was afraid you wouldn’t come and I really wanted you to come so—”

“Tim.”

“Okay, so this resort is kind of...it’s a couples resort.” Tim darted a glance at Armie and then looked down at his hands.

“A couples resort?” Armie asked, confused.

“Yeah, like...like a Sandals or whatever. It’s supposed to be only for couples, like a romantic getaway. And the contest was like for a romantic getaway. So when I entered us — remember, I was really really drunk — I thought it was funny. Like a joke. Since people are always...because of the movie.”

What Tim was saying was slowly starting to sink in, and Armie felt his stomach drop. A couples resort. A place you went with your girlfriend or wife. _Not_ a place you went with a _friend_.

He peered at Timmy. “I don’t get it,” he said. “I mean...I get you entering us as a joke, but...hold on.” He blinked a few times, the words registering. “You said you entered _us._ As in, me and you, together?”

“Um. Yeah. That was the deal. It’s a romantic couples vacation, so you had to put in two people. That was supposed to be the funny part. So...haha, right?” Timmy giggled nervously.

“I guess,” Armie said doubtfully. The idea of them as a couple was apparently so funny to Timmy that in his drunken state he had thought it would be a hoot to pretend, thought they could have a belly laugh about it later. The idea was downright depressing, even though it really wasn’t anything Armie didn’t already know. “Wait a second,” he said, suddenly thinking of something. “If this is a couples resort, and you won this contest—”

“We won.”

“Okay, _we_ won this contest as a couple, won’t they think it’s weird when we show up and, you know, _aren’t a couple_?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Tim said. He brought his thumb to his mouth and bit the skin around his nail. “Um, I think we sort of have to...pretend to _be_ a couple for the weekend. Or else they might send us home.”

 _Oh, god._ Armie felt a chill spread through his body. Tim wanted them to _pretend_ to be a _couple_? Armie was supposed to _pretend_ to have feelings for Timmy for the entire weekend? Act cuddly and in love with him in public?

He couldn’t do that. No fucking way. It would be hell. And besides—

“Hey,” said Armie. “We can’t do that. If we pretend to be a couple, it’ll be all over the fucking entertainment news. Timmy, I literally signed my divorce papers _days_ ago. How is that going to look? And what do we tell people when we leave and they find out we’re not actually a couple?”

“Oh, I thought of that,” said Tim, smiling. “No, really. It’s okay.” He frowned. “Wait...you signed your divorce papers?”

“Yeah. On Tuesday. I was going to tell you, I just...needed a couple of days to get used to it.”

Tim blinked at him and then slowly nodded. “How does it feel?” he asked.

“It feels…” Armie tried to quantify the emotions he had been feeling, and finally settled on, “...like I don’t have to keep waiting for the inevitable anymore.”

“I guess...congratulations?” Tim smiled hesitantly, and Armie leaned into him, a silent thanks.

A moment later, he remembered what they had been discussing, and said, “You said you thought of the fact that we can’t possibly pretend to be a couple because we’ll get slayed in the press?”

“Right,” said Timmy. “So even in my drunken state, I guess I thought about it. Because I didn’t enter Armie Hammer and Timothée Chalamet. I entered Hal Mobley and Doug Flender.”

“Doug _Flender_ and Hal _Mobley_?” Armie burst out laughing. “Jesus, Tim. So I’m supposed to go around all weekend using my middle name and your mom’s last name?”

“Actually, you’re Hal, and I’m Doug,” Tim said. “I was _drunk_ , remember? But this is a tiny resort. It’s new, so it probably isn’t totally full. We’ll be wearing sunglasses most of the time. I bet no one here will recognize us. And if they do we can just say we’re researching a project or something.”

Armie licked his lips, and a thought occurred to him. “Hey, are we going to have to...kiss...and stuff?”

Tim shrugged. “Probably a little,” he said. “It’s no big deal, right? I mean, we can just pretend it’s like when we were filming. We’re not us, we’re Doug and Hal, a couple in love.” He looked nervous, his eyes pleading with Armie once again not to be mad.

Armie thought it over. This terrible idea had gotten infinitely worse. He wasn’t spending the weekend trying to keep his hands off of his best friend and his feelings locked down and under wraps. No, he was spending the weekend with his hands — and lips, apparently — _on_ his best friend, pretending to have the feelings he _actually_ had, all while keeping the fact that they were real a secret.

 _Shit_.

He should say no way. He should tell the cabbie to turn the car around, bring them back to the airport. They could go somewhere else, somewhere that they didn’t have to engage in this charade. He could book them a private vacation house on another island. Something. Anything.

And yet, when he thought about actually having the opportunity to touch Timmy the way he desperately wanted, to pretend, just for a few days, that Timmy was his...he closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath. It was too much to resist. He’d never have the real thing, and so maybe, for a few days, he could take the closest he was ever going to get.

He opened his eyes. Tim was watching him, eyes wide, the color of moss after rain. He was chewing on his lip and looking worried.

“Okay,” Armie said.

“O-okay?” Tim stammered.

“Yeah. Okay. If we do our best to stay under the radar.”

Tim nodded frantically. “Yes. Absolutely. We’ll show up and collect our winning weekend and then bolt once it’s over and no one will be the wiser.”

Tim looked so happy he had said yes, and the fact that he could make Tim happy like that caused a warmth to bloom in Armie’s chest. He could do this. He could have this weekend, this spot of brightness, and then cherish the memories forever. He could have this — sort of — and then go back to not having it. It would be okay. He could handle it.

The cab pulled off the road and up a drive lined with palm trees. Armie squinted through the dusty windshield.

“Woah,” he said, when the main building of the resort came in sight.

“I know,” breathed Tim beside him. “It’s gorgeous, right? And look, I think you can see the ocean through there.”

Armie turned to Timmy, watching as his face lit up the closer they got.

“Yeah,” Armie murmured. “Gorgeous.”

He was so royally _fucked_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orientation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, fair warning: unlike every other fic I’ve written here, I don’t have a plan for this one AT ALL beyond knowing how it ends. So there may be inconsistencies or problems with pacing. I’ll just thank you in advance for coming along on the ride with me. I have little to no clue where we are headed, just a jumble of ideas for scenes that could fit together in any number of ways.

Armie cursed at his stiff muscles as he unfolded himself from the cab. He straightened up, stretching the kinks out of his back and neck as best he could, taking deep breaths. The air was heavy with heat and the scent of salt water, and the sun beat down on his face and arms. Behind him, he heard Timmy climbing out, the creaking of the cab’s trunk opening, suitcases being set on the ground, Timmy paying the cabbie and thanking him in Spanish.

Then Tim was at his side, squinting up at him. “You all good?” he asked.

“All good,” Armie said. “You?”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “I mean, _look._ ”

They had pulled up in front of a large patio that led into an open-air space between two wings of a massive plantation-style building. From where they were standing, they could see straight through to a wide, white-sand beach in the distance and the sparkling waters of the Caribbean beyond.

A young man in a short-sleeved pastel green shirt and khaki shorts strode towards them with a clipboard and a grin on his face, followed by a woman in a long floral dress carrying a small tray full of beverages and other items.

Armie jumped slightly as he felt something brush his hand, and he glanced down to see Tim’s pale fingers slipping into his palm. His heart sped up slightly at the contact and his gaze lifted to Tim’s in question.

“Okay?” Tim whispered. “We’re a couple, remember?”

Armie swallowed and nodded. Why was holding someone’s hand so damned _intimate_? It was just a hand, for fuck’s sake. Always out there for everyone to see, rarely covered up. People shook hands with strangers, high-fived friends. But _holding_ hands, sustained palm to palm contact…

...he felt a stirring low in his belly and tried to ignore it.

He could do this, no problem. Just to prove it, he changed his grip, lacing his fingers with Timmy’s and squeezing slightly. Beside him, Timmy relaxed, his smile widening.

“Hola,” said the young man with the clipboard. “Welcome to _Isla Deseo_. My name is Ricardo. Whom do I have the pleasure of greeting this afternoon?”

“Uh...Douglas Flender,” said Timmy, his voice shaking slightly. “And Hal Mobley.”

“Ah, yes! Mr. Flender and Mr. Mobley, our contest winners! Wonderful!” Ricardo beamed at them and then made a notation on his clipboard. “We have a lovely romantic weekend in store for you both. First, allow Ariana to offer you some refreshments.”

He moved to the side and gestured for the woman — Ariana, apparently — to step forward. She smiled and held out the tray. “Welcome,” she said. “We have champagne or sangria, and can offer you some fresh mango and papaya, or if there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”

Armie plucked a glass of champagne off of the tray and offered it to Timmy, then picked up the sangria for himself and downed it all at once. The sharp, fruity taste and the iciness of the liquid was the perfect counterpoint to the heat that had been making him sweat since halfway through the ride in the tiny, airless cab. He set the glass back on the tray and picked up a small wooden bowl filled with fruit. 

Once he was holding it, however, he realized he had no way to eat it, unless he pulled his hand out of Timmy’s grip. Which he wasn’t ready to do. So he just held the bowl, feeling like an idiot.

Ricardo laughed. “Seems to have hit the spot, no? Let’s get you somewhere cool for your orientation session.” He made a gesture with his hand, and a bellhop swooped in to pick up their suitcases. “Villa Francesca. A-Wing,” Ricardo called to the bellhop.

Timmy finished his champagne — more quickly than usual — and set it on Ariana’s tray, and then reached over and plucked a bite of mango out of the bowl Armie was holding. He popped it in his mouth, and then glanced at Armie. He grinned through his chewing, and then, with a glint in his eye, he picked up another piece of mango and held it out to Armie.

Armie hesitated. Timmy’s hand was a few inches from his face, the mango juicy and dripping between his fingertips. He licked his lips, and then, taking a deep breath, leaned forward and opened his mouth. Timmy slipped the mango inside, and Armie closed his mouth around it, catching the tip of Tim’s index finger between his lips.

Their eyes met, and seeing the way Timmy’s had widened slightly, Armie flicked his tongue out to catch the droplets of juice that had slid down to Tim’s knuckle, tasting both the sweetness of the fruit and the saltiness of Tim’s skin. Tim made a small sound in the back of his throat, and Armie pulled back, suddenly afraid he had gone too far. He searched Tim’s face, eyes the color of spring grass and lips parted slightly, searching for some sign that things were good.

Tim looked away quickly, and when he looked back, his features had relaxed into an easy smile. Armie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Adorable,” said Ricardo, pulling him back to awareness of the world around them. The man was beaming at them, so he must have been buying the couples... _act._ “If you boys would follow me, we can make you comfortable and get your orientation started.”

He turned and strode under the covered portion of the patio. With a quick glance at each other, Tim and Armie followed. Tim released Armie’s hand as they walked, and Armie had to curl his fingers into a fist to avoid reaching out for him anew.

He frowned slightly at how quickly he was buying into the entire charade himself. It had been...what...ten minutes since they decided they were doing this? It didn't bode well for him with the entire weekend ahead of them.

Ricardo ushered them into a small room off of the center patio. It was blissfully over-air conditioned, and contained a plush white loveseat, facing a single rattan chair across a polished coffee table. On the table were a spread of fruits and cheeses, a pitcher of more sangria with two glasses, and two clipboards holding forms. A small flat-screen television was mounted to the wall opposite the loveseat.

“Please, sit,” Ricardo urged. He closed the door behind them, and once they were seated on the loveseat, he took his place in the facing chair. He picked up the pitcher and poured them both a glass of sangria as he talked. “Now,” he said, “ _Isla Deseo_ prides itself on catering to our guests’ every desire. It’s right in the name, after all. While you are here, you are not to worry about a thing, and ask for whatever you wish. If it is in our power, we will make it happen.”

“Sounds amazing,” said Tim. He shifted slightly on the seat, hunching slightly and crossing his arms over his chest, grabbing onto his biceps. Armie watched him carefully.

“We hope you will feel that way throughout the weekend. To make sure we are able to customize your stay here, there’s a bit of paperwork to fill out.” He tapped the clipboards. “When it comes time to fill it out, be honest, because it will let us know how to make your stay most memorable.”

Armie leaned forward and peered at the forms. He had a chance to note the words _Guest Fulfillment Survey_ at the top of the first form before he felt Timmy move again, closer to him. When he glanced back, Tim was shivering slightly. No wonder, the air conditioning was on full blast, and it seemed like the loveseat was positioned directly beneath a vent. Armie — the human furnace — was touch cold, so Timmy, always a little cold under normal circumstances, must be freezing.

He straightened up and shifted so that his right side was pressed up against Timmy’s left, and wrapped an arm around Timmy’s shoulders, pulling him close. Tim immediately relaxed against him. Armie smiled and rubbed his hand up and down Tim’s right bicep, and Tim sighed with relief.

When Armie looked back up at Ricardo, the man was watching them with a smile.

Right. This was definitely a _couple_ thing to do. Armie hadn’t meant it that way, and Timmy probably hadn’t received it that way, either. This — them sitting close, Tim tucked against Armie — wasn’t that unusual for them in their real lives. Sometimes it was for the purposes of warming Timmy up, like now. Other times, it was just...because. It had started in Crema, then continued while Tim was filming that damned movie with Felix, and then carried straight through the Call Me promos and the last promo season, to today.

It wasn’t weird. It was _them_. But if it helped to sell the _couple_ thing…

Armie tightened his grip a little.

“It’s a little cold in here, I know,” Ricardo said. He jumped up from his seat. “I can turn the air down a bit so you’re more comfortable. There’s a welcome video to watch, and then you’ll fill out the paperwork, which is some medical/emergency information and the wish questionnaire — and will be the last touch of work we will ask you to do until you leave. When you’re finished, someone will come by to do a quick guest intake interview and then show you around and take you to your villa. Aside from the temperature, is there anything else you need from me right now?”

Armie shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Thanks.”

“Wonderful. The video will start momentarily. Be honest on the paperwork and in the interviews, boys. You won’t regret it.”

With that, Ricardo slipped back outside, leaving them alone. Timmy leaned against Armie, squirming a bit.

“Still cold?” Armie asked.

“Yeah,” said Tim. “Stupid changeable body temperature. Why can’t I have, like, _insulation_ or whatever it is you have?”

Armie chuckled. “You don’t need it. You have me,” he said, brusquely running his hand up and down Tim’s arm and his back. Timmy made a noise that sounded almost like a purr, and tilted his head down to rest on Armie’s collarbone. His curls tickled at Armie’s neck, and for a second — because there was no one there to watch, because they didn’t have to pretend — Armie’s heart swelled. Tim was still so comfortable with him that he’d do this with no objective or purpose other than to be close, and that was both exhilarating and devastating all at once.

Exhilarating because he got to have _this_ , even when they weren’t pretending _._ Devastating because _this_ was the limit, this was all he would ever have.

And besides, it didn’t make Armie _special_. Tim was physically affectionate with _everybody_. He hugged fans with no hesitation. He snuggled with everyone. Timmy liked to be touched, and liked to touch, and that was all there was to it. He should just be happy he got to have that more often than most people, and stop wanting things that were out of his reach.

Before he could spiral too far down that path in his mind, the television on the wall flickered on, revealing shots of pristine beaches, colorful flora, luxury accomodations, and romantically lit dining rooms, all to the soundtrack of a calypso band. The opening ended with a closeup of the face of a smiling woman wearing a pink hibiscus flower in her hair.

“Welcome to _Isla Deseo_ ,” she said, her voice bright and welcoming. “Where we are in the business of granting wishes. We’re so happy you’ve chosen to spend time with us, and hope that when it comes time to bid us farewell, that you will already be planning your return.”

With the assistance of video and graphics, she then took them on a virtual tour of the resort. There were the pools, the beaches, water sports, guided tours, and the spa. There was a nightclub, and a theater, as well as three restaurants and a number of bar and cafe kiosks. The resort hosted organized activities, games, and events every day and night. And everything was centered around the theme of romance and wish fulfillment.

By the time it was over, Armie was excited to get out and explore. The hibiscus lady beamed at them from the screen, her teeth impossibly white, as she concluded her preview of the resort and instructed them to fill out the paperwork they had been given. Her last words rang out clear in the tiny room.

 **“** ** _Isla Deseo_** **: What is** **_your_ ** **wish?”**

The screen went black.

“Wow,” Timmy said. “This place looks so amazing. I don’t even know what I’d want to do first.”

“Well, we’ve got to fill out the paperwork, apparently,” Armie said. He reached out and snagged the clipboards, letting Tim take one before he examined his. The first page was just asking for basic information, health insurance, emergency contacts. He wondered if he should put his real info on there or stick with the false identity.

“I guess we just put our real info but the fake names?” Timmy asked. Armie smirked at the fact that they had had the same thought.

“Sure,” said Armie. He realized that, in order to fill out the forms, he needed his right hand, which was currently wrapped around Timmy. “You still cold?” he asked, reluctant to remove it if Tim still needed him.

Tim glanced up. It looked like he was struggling with deciding, and then, finally, he said, “Not really. I think they turned down the a/c. You can...have your arm back.” Armie nodded and lifted his arm, and Tim slid a few inches away. _And that’s that,_ Armie thought sadly. He turned his attention to the forms in order to distract himself.

After filling out the first page, he flipped to the second. This one was a little more interesting, asking about food and drink preferences. He completed it with relish, his mouth watering at the thought of the meals he might be able to have this weekend. He must have been getting hungry.

The third page asked about activities, and he ran quickly through the list, ranking things that he thought he or Timmy would enjoy. He hadn’t been waterskiing in a while, and he thought Tim might get a kick out of the jet skis. Did Tim know how to scuba dive? Massage...he ticked the box.

When he was done, he checked on Timmy and smiled. Tim had pulled his legs up onto the loveseat and was balancing the clipboard on his knees. His eyebrows were scrunched together and his tongue was peeking out from the corner of his mouth, a sure sign of concentration.

He was adorable.

After a moment, Tim glanced up, saw Armie watching him, and grinned. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Armie. “Just seeing if you were done.”

“I think so,” Tim said.

Just then, the door to the room opened, and two women entered. The blonde one introduced herself as Amanda and the other woman as Brielle. Brielle then whisked Armie away to the room next door so they could conduct the guest intake interviews separately.

Once seated in the new room, Armie asked, “What exactly is this for, and why do we have to do it separately?”

He had been on plenty of island vacations, but this was a new one.

“It allows us to go the extra mile to fulfill your wishes while you’re our guest,” Brielle said, her gentle accent rolling off of her tongue. “And we do it separately because it encourages you to be more free with your responses and for us to be able to set up surprises for your partner at your request.” She leaned forward, patted his hand, and winked. “It’s more romantic.”

That actually made sense. Unfortunately, he and Tim hadn’t had a chance to discuss what to say, or how to handle this, so he supposed he should just lay on the couple-ness thick. Play his role. Or...just be honest.

“I’m recording the session,” she said, picking up a small remote from a side table and pressing a button. “Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Armie said. ”But why?”

“Accuracy,” she said. She flipped through his questionnaire, looking at his responses. “Looks like there are a lot of things you’re looking forward to trying while you’re here.”

“You have a great resort,” he said. “We might as well take advantage of what you have to offer.”

“Mmhmm. Now, tell me. What are some wishes you have for you and your partner?”

“Wishes...like what?” Armie asked.

“Like...is there something you’d like to do for him, or that you’d like the pair of you to do together?”

Armie thought that over. What would he like to do, romantically, for Tim? If Tim were actually his boyfriend?

“The usual stuff, I guess,” Armie said. “I’d spoil him. Breakfast in bed, give him anything he asked for, treat him to his favorite foods. Go for a hike. Surprise him with a special trip or activity that he thought we couldn’t do. Go to the spa. Swim.” He smiled. “Watch the sunset, talk all night, and watch the sunrise.”

They had done that, in Crema. And again when Tim was living at his house in LA, the night after he had received medical care because of the Beautiful Boy filming. Armie wanted more.

“That’s sweet,” said Brielle. “What about fantasies you’ve had?”

“Fantasies?” Armie frowned. “Like...you want me to talk to you about sex?”

She laughed. “Not necessarily, though if that’s part of your wishes, then you’re welcome to. Just...any kind of fantasy you may have had. If you tell me, I might be able to make it happen.”

Armie thought about it, but his fantasies regarding Tim were simple, and nothing that _Isla Deseo_ could help him with. He wanted Tim in his bed when he woke up every morning. He wanted to make dinner together and fight about how to load the dishwasher and go shopping for artwork. He wanted a _life_ , and this resort could not give that to him in three nights and four days.

Finally, he shook his head. “I can’t think of anything specific right now. Sorry.”

“Well, then let’s try this,” Brielle said. “Tell me a little about your relationship.”

 _Shit._ He and Tim hadn’t had a chance to get their stories straight. What was he supposed to say?

“Don’t panic,” she said, laying her hand on his again. “Start simple. How long have you been together?”

Simple. _Right_. Except...Armie realized how he could answer without answering, and ironically still be one hundred percent honest.

“I met him a little over three years ago. I think I fell in love with him that first day, and...no other date or milestone matters.”

Brielle placed a hand over her heart. “Beautiful,” she said. “What is it you love about him?”

Armie smiled. This part was easy. “I love that he has different laughs depending on whether he’s surprised, or gloating, or thinks what you said is ridiculous. I love that his emotions are all over not just his face but his entire body, that he’s so open and genuine all the time. I love how generous he is with himself, always looking to see how he can make things better for others.” He took a breath.

“I love how much he thinks about things, how perceptive he can be...and that at the same time he will believe anything you say because he’s so trusting of people. I love the way he moves, and how he dresses, and how much he throws himself into every fucking thing he does. I wish…”

Armie trailed off, and Brielle leaned forward. “What do you wish, Mr. Mobley?”

He sighed, and looked away. When he returned his gaze to Brielle, he was blinking away moisture and spoke purely from his heart. “I wish he could know how much I really do love him, because he doesn’t have any idea. And I wish he would love me the same way in return.” His mouth twisted up in a half smile. “Do you have love potions at your disposal, Brielle?”

She chuckled. “No, but maybe all you need is a little romance to show you what is already there. What makes you so sure he _doesn’t_ love you the way you love him?”

“Trust me, it’s not possible,” Armie said.

She rolled her eyes. “If you say so. All right, let’s see if they’re finished, and I’ll take you two to your villa.”

He followed her back out into the heat of the mid-afternoon, and waited while she knocked on the other door. Amanda and Tim came out. Tim looked flushed, and Armie was immediately concerned. His interview had been fairly bland, but maybe Tim’s had been more difficult for him.

Maybe it was just more work for Tim to pretend to be in love with Armie than it was for Armie to be in love with Tim.

But then Tim shot him a sheepish smile, came to his side, and took his hand again. Armie reveled in the simple sensation, and without thinking, he said, “Hi. I missed you.”

Tim blinked up at him, then squeezed his hand and grinned. “Yeah, me too,” he said.

Tim sounded so sincere, Armie almost believed him.

Brielle took them through the covered patio to the other side of the main building, pointing out the direction of various restaurants and activities, location maps, the pool, and the spa. Then she led them to a golf cart.

“Hop on,” she said brightly. “Next stop, Villa Francesca.”

They climbed onto the cart and she zipped them off down a tree-lined path, still chattering about the resort amenities.

Tim leaned over and murmured in Armie’s ear. “Did she ask you how long we’ve been together?”

“Yeah,” Armie replied. “I told her we met three years ago and left it at that.”

“Me too!” Tim giggled. “God, when she asked that I nearly confessed everything. We should probably get our story straight though in case anyone else asks.”

“Sure,” said Armie. Tim was right, it was a good idea. “And if we stick sort of close to the truth, it’ll be easier to remember. You’re not the world's best liar, Timmy.”

“I’m an _actor_ ,” Timmy muttered.

“Yes, and you’re a brilliant one. But you can’t _lie_ for shit.”

Tim looked like he was about to protest, but the golf cart slowed to a stop, and he got distracted looking around.

“Welcome to Villa Francesca,” Brielle said, jumping off of the cart. She spread an arm towards the small building to her left. “Each of our premium units has two wings. You’ll be in the A wing, which is here on the east side. There are two entrances; one from the path here, and the second that goes straight onto the beach. Come.”

They followed her into the villa, and she handed them two key cards on lanyards. Armie looked around. There was a small entrance, and then the space opened up into a large room with dark wooden accents. There was a sitting area with a comfy-looking sofa and a couple of chairs facing a television, a little kitchenette area with a small refrigerator, coffee maker, toaster oven, and sink, and the bedroom area. Armie spotted a good-sized bathroom with what looked like a jacuzzi tub off to the left.

Brielle had crossed to the sliding doors on the other end of the room. “You have a private plunge pool on your lanai,” she said, “as well as a place to sit. The views out here are stunning, come look.”

They did, and it was. From the lanai, they could step right out onto a gorgeous beach, and they had an unobstructed view of the ocean. Armie watched the waves crashing onto the sand for a moment, and then took a deep breath and let it out. Tension he hadn’t know he was holding slipped out of his neck and shoulders.

The beach would always feel like home to him. 

“Well, I’ll leave you two to explore,” Brielle said. “Your luggage is in the closet there. Call up front should you need absolutely anything. If you need a recommendation for dinner, I’ll suggest you try Chef Marcel’s _Heart’s Desire_.  He has a tasting menu that’s to die for, and the best dessert on the island.”

“Thank you,” Armie said, and Timmy echoed the sentiment. Then she was gone, leaving them alone. He looked down at Tim and grinned.

“It’s special, right?” Tim asked, bouncing slightly on his toes, “I could tell it was. When I saw the ads. That’s why I wanted to come here so badly when I won the stupid contest.” He peered at Armie, who was still smiling. “You like it. I can tell you do. It’ll be worth all this dumb pretending.”

“I like it,” Armie said. “I’m glad I came. And the pretending isn’t so bad, is it?”

“No,” said Timmy. “It’s easy.”

 _Easy._ For him, maybe.

Tim wandered back into the villa and looked around, then leapt onto the giant bed and spread his limbs out as far as they would go, taking up most of the space on the bed. He closed his eyes and grinned up at the ceiling.

“Comfortable bed,” he said. “ _Score._ ”

Meanwhile, Armie was having an entirely different thought. It did look like a comfortable bed. One of the more comfortable beds he’d ever seen, with its king-sized mattress and slatted wooden headboard, its plush, pale green comforter and massive pillows. Definitely a comfortable bed.

But there was only _one_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey we’re just suspending disbelief that the resort isn’t checking IDs of guests on the way in, hmmm?
> 
> I’m onlyastoryteller on Tumblr.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are difficult for Armie as he struggles to figure out how to act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter for you. I’ve had a bit of a rough weekend, stress-wise, so I decided to post this as is. I’m seriously writing blind here. It’s a weird feeling. I have no idea what happens next until I write it. 
> 
> Also there will clearly be a million chapters because we are moving at a snail’s pace. 
> 
> 100% fiction, probably.

“Come on,” Timmy said, opening one eye and raising his head a few inches off the bed to peer at Armie. “Try it out. You won’t regret it.”

With a grunt, he shoved himself to one side of the bed and patted the space next to him. Armie tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry.

There was only one bed. _Of course_ there was only one bed, why would he have expected anything else? They were in a couples-only resort.

Tim frowned at him. “Armie? Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No, sorry,” he said, approaching the bed. He sat gingerly on the edge. “Seems comfortable.”

Tim patted the mattress. “Try it out properly, dude.”

Armie slid onto the bed and stretched out carefully on his back. The mattress was definitely comfortable, but he couldn’t relax, because Timmy was stretched out six inches away.

It’s not like they had never shared a bed before. They did it all the time in Crema. And a bunch of nights during the _Beautiful Boy_ filming. But that was...different. In those cases, there was an emotional component, one or the other of them needed the support.

This...was just Armie and Timmy, sleeping in the same bed. Not because Armie was struggling with opening up the way he needed to in order to play Oliver. Not because Timmy was afraid he would fuck up playing the piano during a scene and couldn’t sleep. Not because the physical demands of a role took such a toll on Timmy that Armie didn’t want to leave his side.

There was no _reason_ for this. Which meant maybe they shouldn’t do it?

On the other hand, Armie was free now. The divorce was final. If there was ever a time to enjoy being in bed with Tim without feeling guilty at all...it was now.

Beside him, Tim rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. He frowned at Armie.

“You sure you’re okay? A minute ago you seemed fine and now…” Tim laid his other hand on Armie’s chest.

It lay there, its gentle weight burning a hole through Armie’s shirt, and he tensed further.

“Now...what?” asked Armie.

“Now you seem like something’s bothering you. You’re all…” he ran his hand up to Armie’s collar and back down. “...locked up.”

 _Fuck_. Tim was right, he was acting like an idiot, and what was worse, Tim could tell. If he didn’t pull it together, he was going to screw up the whole vacation.

How would he act if he wasn’t in love with Tim? He didn’t know, because he couldn’t remember ever interacting with him at a time when he _hadn’t_ been.

Okay, but he could at least act normal. What was normal for them? Why the fuck couldn’t he remember? Normal was teasing each other, normal was goofing around, normal was…

Slowly, a smirk spread across Armie’s face.

“I’m fine,” Armie said, his voice casual. He laid one of his hands on top of Tim’s and patted it reassuringly. Then, in one quick motion, he grabbed tight to Tim’s hand to keep him in place and rolled towards him, attacking with his other hand.

He dug his fingers under Tim’s arms and into his ribs until Tim was writhing and gasping, laughing helplessly. He kicked his legs up into the air, but Armie was bigger and heavier, and used his entire body to hold Tim down. Tim scrabbled at his arms and chest.

“Fuck, stop, you—Armie, fuck—“

“What, am I doing something you don’t like?” Armie asked. “You’re laughing and smiling, it seems like you’re having a good time.”

Armie didn’t let up until Tim _bit_ him. Lunged up, fastened his teeth on Armie’s shoulder, and sank his teeth in.

“Ow, fuck,” Armie yelped. He let go of Tim and grabbed at his shoulder. “What the hell.”

“I needed a minute,” Tim managed. He was still pinned beneath Armie, but he had gone limp and was sucking in heaving breaths. “I think we need a safe word.”

“Yeah, if you’re going to _bite_ me.” Armie searched Tim’s face. “Did I take it too far? You okay?”

Tim whacked his chest. “I’m fine. Except that you weigh a ton, by the way. Jesus, I knew you were bulking up, but you’re like solid brick.” He placed his hands on Armie’s chest and ran them up to his shoulders and back down. “Is this what they call _chiseled_?”

“Sorry.” Armie rolled off of Timmy, feeling his face flush at both Tim’s words and also at the fact that he was suddenly half hard and hoping that Tim hadn’t noticed.

They lay there a moment, Tim still breathing hard and catching his breath, Armie willing his cock to behave.

Finally, Tim spoke. “What do you want to do first?”

Armie thought, not about what he wanted, but about what would be a safe choice.

“I’m kind of hungry,” he said. “I don’t want to ruin dinner, but maybe a snack? And...the beach? What about you?”

“Snack and the beach sounds good.” He bounced to his feet and then turned back to the bed and held out a hand. “Come on, old man, let me help you up.”

“Asshole.” Armie rolled his eyes and pushed himself up, ignoring Tim’s proffered hand.

They found their luggage in the closet as promised. Armie unearthed one of his pairs of swim trunks — the blue ones — and clutched it in his hand. Tim was still rooting around in his bag.

“Uh, I’ll just…” He moved toward the bathroom and slid inside, closing the door behind him.

He changed quickly into his trunks, folding his clothes and setting them on the counter. Then he waited. He wanted to give Tim enough time to change before he barged back out into the room. How long should he wait?

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. Armie opened it, and Tim stood there, looking confused.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Did you come in here just to change?”

Armie shrugged. “I just thought...yeah.”

Tim gave him an odd look. “You don’t have to, its cool. Because I’ve seen you naked, dude. A million times. I’ve _touched_ —“

“I know, shut up. It was just habit.” He pushed past Tim and into the room. “Are we going to the beach?”

From behind him, there was a pause, and then, “Yeah.”

Armie grabbed a canvas bag and shoved his phone, sunscreen, the book he was reading, and his sunglasses inside.

“A place like this has towel service, right?” he asked over his shoulder. “Do you want to put anything in here?”

“They should,” Tim said. “And if not we just have to ask, right? Because they fulfill wishes?

He came up beside Armie, smirking, and slipped his own sunscreen, phone, and a notebook into the bag.

“What are you working on?” Armie asked, when he saw the notebook.

“There’s a project I’m being considered for. It’s not...it’s different than what I’ve been doing, kind of. So I need to wrap my head around it.”

“You going to tell me what it is?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Well, there’s an NDA, but you basically know already. It’s not a done deal yet, but it’s a biopic.”

“Dylan?”

Timmy shrugged. “You didn’t hear it from me.”

Armie beamed at Tim. He’d been talking about this for years, about how he’d love to be a part of this project. To know he was close was thrilling. “Hey, that’s—“

Tim slapped a palm over Armie’s mouth. “It’s not a done deal so just…okay?” He suddenly looked uncomfortable.

Armie nodded, and Tim removed his hand. Armie waited a moment before he spoke. “You know, if you don’t get it, it just means something better will come along, right?”

“Maybe,” Tim said. Standing there, wearing only his purple swim trunks, he suddenly looked small and unsure of himself. Armie had seen it before, and he always hated it, because it was always unjustified. “Whatever. Let’s not talk about it. Beach, right?”

“Right,” Armie said. “Just so you know, though...I’m not going to let you feel insecure. So get ready for some good old-fashioned ego boosting.”

Timmy’s gaze flickered up, and the look in his eyes was grateful for just a second. Then he sprang into motion, sashaying towards the door to the beach.

“Let’s go,” he said, “what are we waiting for?”

Armie picked up the bag and followed. He was definitely not watching the way Tim’s ass wiggled back and forth in his trunks.

Definitely _not_.

* * *

Armie closed his eyes and took a breath. He could handle this. This was nothing. Absolutely nothing. He opened his eyes again and stared at the expanse of pale skin on Timmy’s back, an inch away from his hands.

“What are you waiting for?” Tim glanced over his shoulder at Armie.

“The...uh, the sunscreen is a little cold from being in the air conditioning,” Armie said. “I was waiting for it to warm up a bit.”

“Don’t wait too long,” Tim said. “You know I burn in, like, seventeen seconds.”

“Right.” With one last steeling breath, Armie placed his hands on Tim’s shoulders. He slicked the sunscreen down over his shoulder blades towards his spine, rubbing it in as best he could. Beneath his palms, Tim sighed. “You okay?” he asked.

“It just...feels good,” Tim said.

_It does?_

Armie squeezed some more sunscreen onto his hands and worked it into Tim’s lower back, slipping a slick finger slightly underneath the waistband of Tim’s shorts to make sure he wouldn’t have any exposed skin that wasn’t protected.

Timmy giggled at the touch.

“You’re ticklish there?” Armie laughed.

“Shut up. Okay, your turn. Gimme.” Tim turned around and held out a hand. Armie passed him the sunscreen and turned around himself.

A moment later, he felt a slippery hand in the middle of his back, and another up towards his shoulder. He closed his eyes again, giving himself a moment to enjoy the fact that Timmy was touching him, even in this innocent way. The hands disappeared, and then returned, and seemed to knead into his muscles more deeply than necessary.

He groaned a little.

“You’re super tense,” Timmy said softly. “I’m glad you came here, you need a chance to let go.”

“Yeah,” Armie breathed. “You’re probably right.”

After another minute, Tim muttered, “There.” Then, his hands slid around to Armie’s stomach. Armie froze. He felt Tim’s cheek resting against his back.

“Tim?” Armie asked.

“Just being couple-y,” Tim said. “Incoming.”

Armie glanced to his right and, sure enough, one of the green-shirted staff was headed towards them across the sand.

On the way out of the villa, they had found a station with towels, lounge chairs, and umbrellas, and had asked about the beach service. The staff member had said he’d send a server over to take their order. This must have been the server.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said, handing Armie a small laminated menu. “What can I get you today?”

He looked over the selections as Timmy released him and moved to stand beside him. “I’m thinking conch fritters,” he said to Tim. “What do you think?”

“I’ve never had them,” said Tim. “Are they good?”

Armie rolled his eyes and turned to the server. “Conch fritters. And two of whatever local beer you have on tap.”

When she had retreated with the promise that the order would be by shortly, and they were settled into their chairs, Armie gazed out at the ocean, once again feeling the tension leech from his body.

He was feeling a little like he had been on a roller coaster of emotion since he had gotten on the plane in LA this morning. First, he had been feeling anxious about the weekend and excited to see Tim. Then, contentment upon actually seeing him. Then anxiety again when he found out what Tim wanted them to do, followed by a thrill that he might get a taste — albeit a fake one — of exactly what he had been craving.

Then, of course, was the push and pull of wanting to take what was being offered and feeling guilty for doing just that; the struggle of balancing letting himself feel and demonstrate the very real emotions he was having on the one hand, and pretending like it was all a game on the other. He had to get things under control, make a decision to lean into the skid, wherever it led, or else the entire weekend would be torture.

But this, for example...laying in the sun beside the person he cared about most, watching the waves crash against the shore...this was good. What more could he ask for, really?

Tim snorted, and Armie rolled his head to the left. Tim was watching him with a look between amusement and fondness on his face.

“What?” Armie asked. He couldn’t help the grin that crept across his features.

Tim grinned back. “I was just thinking...I love this. And it made me think of that scene, and that line. You know…”

“You mean, ‘I love this, Oliver’?” Armie understood the amusement as well as the fondness, and found himself snickering. “Then go ahead, say it.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I love this, Armie.”

Armie drew in a long breath, let it out. “What?” he asked.

Timmy stretched his legs slightly, tilted his face up to the sun. “Everything.”

“Us, you mean?” Armie felt his heart beating a little faster, memories of that day long ago, the day they had shot this scene they were mocking, filling his senses. He could almost hear the insects buzzing around, feel the grass prickling at his skin, the humidity making it harder to breathe. The anticipation, low in his belly, knowing they would get to kiss.

“It’s not bad,” Timmy said. “It’s not bad.”

It would be so easy, Armie thought. So easy to sit up, reach out, trace his fingers along Tim’s lips, cup his chin, the way he had that day. Would Tim let him? There was a vibe in the air, some kind of something crackling, that told him...maybe he would.

Or was that just his imagination? Because he wanted it so badly?

Tim rolled his head to the right, smiling softly, his eyes sparkling with humor. “So, are you going to kiss me now?” he asked.

Armie’s heart stopped.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a little extra time today, so...here’s a little something. 
> 
> 100% fiction, probably.

Tim’s question rang in Armie’s ears.

_So, are you going to kiss me now?_

It was like Tim could read his mind, like they were so in tune that Tim just _knew_ that he had been thinking about the physicality of the scene leading up to their first kiss as Oliver and Elio.

Or, it could be that Tim was just playing along with the scene, thinking he was being funny. Yes, it had to be that. Tim wasn’t actually asking Armie to kiss him, they were just goofing around.

Armie was in the midst of trying to figure out some smart-ass remark to make in reply when Tim laughed and spoke again.

“Well, if you’re not going to make a move, I guess I have to.”

_What?_

Armie’s heart, which he was pretty sure had stopped a minute back, thudded loudly in his chest. It thudded again as Timmy pushed himself up from his chair. The next thing Armie knew, Tim was throwing his leg over Armie and straddling him, knees on either side of his hips, hands on his chest, and lowering his head.

 _Shit, shit, shit,_ Armie thought. He couldn’t believe this was really happening. Tim was smirking, a challenge in his eyes, as he got closer and closer. As if they had a mind of their own, Armie’s hands settled on Tim’s hips, just at his waistband, so that his thumbs and forefingers had access to smooth skin.

When Tim’s lips were a breath from Armie’s he suddenly pushed himself away and laughed self-consciously. He sat back, his ass resting on Armie’s thighs, right below his crotch. If he shifted forward just a bit…

“Sorry,” Tim said, a little breathless.

It took Armie a second to realize Tim wasn’t talking to him. No, he was talking to the server, who had just returned with their order. Armie immediately pulled his hands away from Tim’s waist.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she said breezily. She nimbly shook out a small folding table with one arm, wedged its legs in the sand and then set the small tray she was carrying on it. “Is there anything else I can get for you boys?”

Of course. Of _course_ it was an act. Timmy had seen her coming and had thought it was an opportunity to put on a little show. He had never intended for Armie to kiss him, never intended to _actually_ kiss Armie.

He felt as if someone had poked a hole in his side and deflated him entirely.

“We’re good,” said Tim. He patted Armie’s chest. “Right, hon?”

“What?” Armie blinked at him, and then remembered what was going on. “Yes, fine.”

Once she had turned to walk away, Tim climbed off of Armie’s chair and plopped down into the sand beside it. “Didn’t mean to take you by surprise,” he said, as he collected one of the beers. He took a sip, sighed in satisfaction, and then glanced at Armie warily. “I hope I didn’t, like...overstep.”

“No, it’s fine,” Armie said. “For a second I...but then I got it.”

“For a second you what?” Tim’s gaze was suddenly sharp, focused.

“I was confused, not sure what you were doing. But then she came over and I remembered. We’re a couple.” Armie spoke quickly, stumbling a little over the words. He really needed to get it together, and fast.

“Oh. Right.” Tim sighed, then reached up and snagged a small fried sphere from the paper cone on the tray. “This is a conch fritter?”

“Yeah, but make sure you eat it with the dipping sauce,” Armie said, scrambling to keep up with the change in subject. He picked up the cup of creamy orange sauce from the tray and held it up. “You won’t regret it.”

Tim dipped his fritter in the sauce, took a bite, and then closed his eyes and moaned.

“Ohmmgdddd,” he mumbled, around his mouth full of fried goodness. He swallowed, then opened his eyes, gazing at the rest of his fritter in wonder. “This is the best ever.”

“Told you,” said Armie with a satisfied smirk.

“So what are _you_ going to eat, because I’m about to inhale these.” Tim finished off the fritter and went for a second.

“Slow down, slim,” Armie said, laughing. “They look small, but they’ll fill you up fast.”

He selected one for himself, and they ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Tim shifted in the sand so that he was leaning up against Armie’s chair, his elbow propped on the edge an inch from Armie’s thigh. Knowing he was asking to be tortured, but not able to help it, Armie stretched and shifted as well, bringing his thigh in contact with Tim’s elbow. Tim didn’t react, didn’t pull away. In fact, if Armie hadn’t known better, he would have sworn Tim leaned _into_ him a bit more.

When the conch fritters and beers were gone, Tim jumped to his feet, spraying sand everywhere.

“I’m going in,” he said, sweeping his arm behind him in the direction of the ocean. “Coming?”

“You shouldn’t go in the water so soon after eating,” Armie said.

“That’s an old wives’ tale.” Tim reached out and smacked Armie’s leg. “Come on, come with me.”

Armie hesitated. “You go, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Timmy pouted for a second, and then grinned. “Don’t take too long,” he said. “I might get a cramp and need you to rescue me.”

He took off across the sand. Armie watched him go, admiring the way his long legs ate up the distance to the water and smiling as Tim splashed his way through the surf. Like with everything else in life, he jumped right in and submerged himself in the water. Tim did nothing halfway.

Armie really needed to figure his shit out. There had been too many close calls already, too many times when he had nearly revealed his true feelings, and they had only just arrived. At this rate, he’d be down on one knee and proposing by breakfast, and Tim would never speak to him again.

He couldn’t risk that.

So what was his game plan? The first thing he needed to do was to stop freaking out at every bit of physical touch. It had never been this hard before. But then, it had been months. He was out of practice. The last time they had been apart for so long, Tim had been so grateful to be home that he had been downright clingy when they first met up again in New York, and so there was no easing back into their natural affection; they were just _there_. On top of that, last time he had still been sorting things out with Elizabeth, and so had had other reasons to hold back. This time...the dance, walking on the edge of what was appropriate behavior between friends the way they did, was more complicated.

Maybe the answer was to speed things up. He knew he was going to have to kiss Tim at some point, and if what had happened earlier was any indication, he was nervous about it. Better that he take control of that, be the one to do it the first time, so that he knew the score and wasn’t taken by surprise.

He watched Tim ducking in and out of the water and riding the waves, and made his decision. He stood and took off across the sand, not stopping to enjoy the first feeling of the warm Caribbean waters splashing across his feet. He didn’t stop until he was bobbing alongside Timmy, deep enough that his feet left the ocean floor by a few inches each time a wave rolled in.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” Timmy replied, his grin blinding. “It’s nice out here. Isn’t it nice?”

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Armie said. “I’m thinking that it’s been a while — like, almost three years — since the last time we had to kiss. And I’m a little bit worried that I’ll screw it up, and people will be able to tell we don’t kiss normally.”

“Oh.” Timmy’s grin faded. “Do you think we shouldn’t...I guess we could just tell people we don’t like PDA. If it’s making you uncomfortable.”

“No, I…” _Fuck,_ that wasn’t what he wanted. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just didn’t want the _first_ time to be where a lot of people can see. Close up. Just until we get the hang of it again.”

“So...you want to...kiss in private first?” Timmy squinted at him. He looked confused. Armie couldn’t blame him, this argument was a bit thin. They had never had trouble with the kissing, not even the very first time.

“Well...here is good,” Armie said. The waves had washed them closer to the shore, and he could now stand solidly, the water lapping at his ribs. When he straightened up, Tim followed suit.

“Here?” he asked.

Armie looked around. There were people on the beach, but no one was too close.

“Yeah. Unless you’d rather wait—“

“Okay, here is fine,” Timmy said. His gaze flickered to Armie’s lips and then back up.

“Okay.” He was really going to do this. He was going to kiss Timmy again, something he had been sure was a thing of the past. His stomach did a series of rapid somersaults, and he took a deep breath.

He took a step forward so that he was within an arm’s length. Then, his eyes locked on Tim’s, he reached out, cupped his hand around the back of Tim’s neck, and pulled him close.

Tim didn’t resist, instead letting himself be drawn in until his toes brushed against Armie’s in the silky sand below.

Armie lowered his head and Tim tipped his face up and then they were kissing. It seemed to happen all at once. There wasn’t an identifiable moment of sensation where their lips touched for the first time, where Armie could distinguish between light and firmer pressure, where their lips parted and their tongues reunited.

It was simply _not kissing yet_ and then _kissing_ , with no space between _._

Just like that, everything came rushing back, the way it had felt to be able to do this every day, to be _required_ to do this every day, to feel like doing this every day was the most right and natural way to exist in the world.

Armie’s hand slid up into Timmy’s wet curls, and he laid his other hand on Timmy’s lower back to pull him closer still. Again, Timmy just went, his left leg filling the space between Armie’s thighs and his arms wrapping around Armie’s waist. His palms slid up to lay flat on Armie’s shoulder blades.

There was no room for conscious thought. There was only _Tim_ , and _finally_ , and _more._ So Armie stopped thinking and worrying and focused only on the moment. He couldn’t say how long they had been kissing, or how long they would continue to kiss, but if it were up to him, the answer to both would be _forever_.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. Without warning, they were suddenly underwater, knocked sideways by a particularly aggressive wave. The force of the surf shoved them apart. Armie’s fingers slipped from Timmy’s skin, and he found himself grabbing at fistfuls of water instead.

They came up sputtering, about six feet apart. Armie looked across the new distance, watching as Tim laughingly swiped the salt water out of his eyes and tossed his hair out of his face, and knew without question that there was never going to be anyone else for him, no matter that he could never have what he wanted with Tim. The wave had just done what life had already established as a pattern: let Armie have just enough to hook him good, and then pull Tim away.

This weekend was going to be the same. The sooner he came to terms with that, the more he could enjoy the time he did have.

Even as he thought this, Tim was wading slowly toward him, a hesitant smile on his face.

“Well,” Tim said, “that went okay. I mean, I thought so.”

“Yeah.” Armie nodded. “Looks like we remembered how to do it.”

“Like...riding a bike.” Tim glanced towards the shore. “Should we go in? Dry off for a while before getting ready for dinner? Maybe have another beer?”

“Sure,” said Armie. “Lead the way.” He needed another minute in the water to get things under control, even if that wasn’t an issue for Tim.

They made their way back up the beach, Timmy throwing the occasional glance over his shoulder — to make sure Armie was following? — every few feet.

By the time they reached the chairs, Armie finally knew what he had to do, for his own sanity if nothing else. Once they had toweled off and settled in, he raised the flag on his chair for the server so they could order their beers. Then he reached across the space between the loungers, to where Tim’s hand was resting by his side.

He took Tim’s hand in his and held it gently. Tim looked over at him in question.

“I figure if we’re going to be a couple it’s easier to just _be_ a couple,” Armie said. “As long as we’re outside the room, we’re in character, whether someone is watching or not. Simpler to slip into and out of that way. Less work and calculation involved.”

“Makes sense,” Tim said, flexing his hand in Armie’s. “You’re right. So in the room, we’re us. Outside the room, we’re playing a role.”

“Exactly,” Armie said. “I just don’t want to overthink it. I want to have fun with you, relax a little. And I can’t if I’m constantly _thinking_ about how I’m supposed to be acting and how it looks. Considering whether each thing I do is pushing it too far or overstepping or not stepping far enough.”

Tim looked down for a long moment. When he looked up again, he sighed. “I’m sorry I made this hard for you.”

“It’s not,” Armie said, giving Timmy’s hand a squeeze. “I promise you, it’s not. I just thought we should establish the ground rules a little better. So we can just enjoy finally hanging out again. I’d rather just go _all in_ , not hold back. Like in Crema.”

Timmy blinked at him, and then nodded slowly. “Like in Crema,” he said. Then he smirked. “So that means that we should just go for it, completely? No boundaries, like back then?” Tim asked. “You won’t freak out if I grab your ass?”

Armie grinned. “Grab away. You want to grab, you grab. You want to kiss, you kiss. You have my permission.”

“Sounds good, baby,” Timmy leered.

Armie’s breath caught in his throat, hearing that endearment slipping so easily from Timmy’s lips. He coughed and then smiled to cover it up, as if it had made him choke on laughter.

“Am I ‘baby’ now?” he asked.

Tim shrugged, plastering an innocent look on his face. “You are as long as you call me ‘sweetheart.’”

Armie felt his smile widen. That, he could absolutely do.

“Always, sweetheart,” he said. He brought Timmy’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckle. “See? So much simpler this way.”

When he looked up, there was an odd expression on Tim’s face, something he couldn’t read. It was gone in an instant, however, and Tim smiled again, looking mischievously delighted.

“Or I could call you ‘pookie.’” He snickered.

This time, Armie did laugh. “Not on your life.”

“Snookums?”

“No way.”

“I’m going to do it,” Tim said. “When you least expect it. And you’ll have to play along and keep a straight face.”

“Try it and die,” Armie warned.

Just then, the server arrived. “Hi, boys, what’ll it be?” she asked, clearing away their earlier order.

Armie glanced at Tim. Then, with a pleasant smile, he turned back to the server and said, “Two more of the beers we had earlier. One for me and one for my cuddle-buns here.”

“Coming right up,” she said, and moved off without batting an eye.

Once she was far enough away, Timmy burst out laughing. He let go of Armie’s hand and punched his shoulder.

“ _Cuddle-buns_?” he managed. “You are such an asshole.”

“What?” Armie asked, putting on his most innocent face. “Are you saying your buns _aren’t_ cuddly? I happen to know for a _fact—“_

 _“_ Just remember, Hammer, payback's a bitch, and she doesn’t warn you before she strikes.”

“Bring it on. Cuddle-buns.” Armie snickered some more.

Tim giggled, and then rummaged in their bag for his notebook. Without asking, he handed Armie’s book to him, and sat back in his chair, chewing on his pen cap and looking out at the water.

Armie watched him for a minute before opening his book, and then he just stared at the words without reading them. He was making the right choice, he told himself. Convincing Tim to go all in like this, to not worry about boundaries anytime they were outside the room, this would work. This way, he could more easily separate the fantasy from the reality. This way, he wouldn’t have to worry about giving himself up by acting without thinking; Tim would just assume he was in character.

And this way, he could pretend he had this for real for a little while, before it got taken away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just _fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience as I hit a busy patch. Things are about to clear up for me substantially, so I’m hoping to be writing quickly again, on all projects, soon. 
> 
> I’m not sure about this chapter but let’s just say I’m finding lots more tropes to play with. 
> 
> Enjoy! 100% fiction. Probably.

It was going fine. Just _fine._

Armie closed his eyes and let the hot water sluice the sand and sunscreen from his skin.

It always felt good to shower after spending time on the beach. It wasn’t just the act of getting clean, or clearing away the physical grit — which was always a relief — but also the ritual of a shower, which helped to figuratively clear away the muck that so often settled in his mind. The process of soaping up, rinsing off, and repeating, all while the heat sank into your bones, was a calming, mindless activity that had never failed to center him.

He ducked his head out of the stream and grabbed his beer bottle off the ledge, downing half of it in a few large gulps. Shower beer — when it was available — was another key part of the spiritual cleansing. Armie had been delighted to find a six-pack of the same beer they had been enjoying on the beach chilling in a cooler on the table when he entered the villa a short while ago, with a note that it was from the resort with their compliments. Cold and refreshing, it was a perfect contrast to the steam around him. As he drank and then returned his attention to the hot water, he allowed his mind to wander over his current predicament…or opportunity, depending on his mood.

After their conversation on the beach, Armie had managed to relax enough to do some reading while Timmy frowned at the horizon and wrote in his notebook. As the sun settled a little lower, his optimist side had woken up and he had begun to really see this entire ridiculous weekend as a true bonus, something he never thought he’d ever get and should be fucking _thankful_ for.

Of course, the one thing he had to be sure not to do was completely lose his head, reveal everything, and send Timmy running for the hills, creeped out that his best friend was harboring lots of impure thoughts about him.

With that in mind, he had excused himself from the beach and claimed the first shower. When Timmy made to gather up his things and follow, Armie had insisted he stay a while longer.

“You look like you’re in the middle of some big thoughts,” Armie had said, waving a hand at the notebook Timmy had been feverishly scribbling in for the past hour. “Don’t stop now. Give me twenty minutes — actually, maybe thirty — and then come on in to take your turn, and we can head to dinner.”

Timmy had agreed, shooting Armie a grateful, blinding smile that made him hurry back up the beach so Timmy couldn’t see the effect a simple grin and soft hazel eyes had on him.

Which brought Armie to the other reason he had wanted to take the first shower, the other reason he wanted to be alone in the villa for a little while. Thinking about Tim and his smile and his eyes — and the way he chewed on his bottom lip, and the color of his skin, and the muscles in his legs — got his engine going quickly under _normal_ circumstances. Being here, in this environment, with their present situation, amplified the...problem.

Deciding it was time to get down to business, he reached down and took himself in hand. Because his mind was already there, it only took a few strokes to get himself fully hard. He then deliberately slowed down.

He wanted to draw this out. To enjoy it. He needed it to be good, and complete. Armie figured that if he jerked off to thoughts of Tim before they spent the evening together, things would be less likely to... _spring up…_ at an inconvenient time. It had worked before. Mostly.

He rested a hand on the shower tile and dragged his fist up and down, finding the rhythm and pressure that would drive him a little crazy before it granted him relief. His mind supplied image after image of Timmy. That was never a problem, but now he had more recent, fresh pictures to focus on...Tim stretched on the bed, Tim touching his back as he spread the sunscreen, Tim running towards the ocean, Tim kissing him amidst the waves…

Sooner than was probably wise, but not as soon as his body wanted, he sped up, increasing the pressure and curling his fist to tease the tip with each pass. He bit his lower lip to contain his moan — he’d been up to this a while now, he thought, and it was possible Tim would return to the room early — squeezed his eyes shut, and splashed all over the shower wall.

Breathing raggedly, and with legs trembling slightly, he directed the shower spray to wash away the evidence.

 _There,_ he told his cock. _Now, you behave._

As he finished his shower and then gave himself a close shave — Tim had sensitive skin, after all — he lectured himself sternly on the lines he should and should not cross, for his own good. He may have told Tim there were no boundaries, but it was smarter for him to secretly have some for himself, he reasoned.

It was going to be fine. Just _fine._

Armie emerged from the bathroom a little later than intended, the towel wrapped around his waist, and stopped short. Tim was back, all right. He was sprawled across the bed again, except this time he was clad in only his swim trunks, his arms and legs stretched out on either side, his miles of pale skin on display like an offering.

The sight immediately made it clear that any _cleaning out_ and preventative measures Armie had attempted had been useless. He quickly adjusted his towel as his traitorous dick began to miraculously show signs of life.

Then he realized that Tim had not moved since he exited the bathroom. He took a step forward, and then another. As he got closer to the bed, he heard a soft snoring. He smiled.

Of course Tim had come in, flopped on the bed, and fell asleep.

Armie allowed himself a few moments to watch Tim, his stomach rising and falling with slow breaths, his lips parted slightly, his features serene. Unable to resist, he reached out a hand and smoothed a palm across Tim’s forehead, brushing back his curls.

Tim’s lips curled into a smile, and he sighed.

Experimentally, Armie did it again. He got another sigh as a reward, and then Tim’s eyelids fluttered open. He blinked, a few times, and then his eyes focused on Armie. The smile returned.

“Hey,” he said. “Did I...did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah,” Armie said. He sat on the edge of the bed. “You feeling okay?”

“Sure,” said Tim. “Being out in the sun always makes me sleepy right after. Puts me right out. Shit.” He scratched his nose and yawned.

Armie knew that, of course. He remembered well the sunny afternoons in Crema, when the day’s outdoor shooting had gone well and they were off early. Inevitably, they’d head for Armie’s place with the intention of having a few drinks, a smoke, and watching Netflix. Just as inevitably, they’d wind up with Timmy fast asleep on the sofa, curled into Armie’s side or sprawled across his lap, snoring away.

Armie shook off the memories and cleared his throat “Well, the shower’s yours, if you want it,” he said. “Might wake you up.”

“Right,” Tim said, seeming to just be noticing Armie’s bare chest, the towel stretched across his lap.  An odd look crossed his face, and then he lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles across Armie’s smooth cheek. “You shaved,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Armie said, trying to keep the sudden emotion that surged up in his chest at bay. He tried for a smirk. “Wanted to look presentable to take my _boyfriend_ to a romantic dinner.”

“I appreciate it,” Timmy said, his lips twisting into a playful grin. “You know how your day-old scruff marks up my face.”

 _When I kiss you. Which I’ll be doing. Maybe a lot._ Armie’s stomach flipped once, twice, at the implications of Tim’s comment.

“Come on, then,” he managed. “Let’s get you ready for a night out.”

Tim groaned and stretched, pointing his toes and arching his back. He sighed, rolled over, bunched up the pillow in his arms, and buried his face in it. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. “Unless we...don’t go to dinner. We could just hang out here.”

 _Nope_ , that wouldn’t do. At all. Armie needed to get Timmy out of the room, out of these close quarters, get him to stop doing things that were going to make it difficult for Armie to keep his guard up. Like, for example, wiggling his ass in the air while he squirmed against the comforter and the pillow.

They needed to be outside, where they were supposed to be a couple, and Tim would assume he was acting when he licked his lips and his eyes went darker and he reached out a hand and ran the tips of his fingers down the ridge of Tim’s spine until he arched into the touch —

“Aren’t you hungry?” Armie asked, clenching his fist against the seam of his towel.

Tim’s stomach growled its answer, and they both laughed. “I guess I am. But we could order room service. See what’s on television. Maybe there’ll be a stupid movie or a documentary.”

“I made reservations,” Armie said, a little desperately. “When I came in before, at that restaurant that was recommended. And you don’t really want to hang out in the room when we have this whole incredible resort at our disposal, do you?”

Timmy wrinkled his nose. “I suppose not.” He heaved a sigh. “Okay, I’m getting up. Any second now. On the count of three.”

With a groan, he hauled himself off the bed and headed for the bathroom. He threw one last glance over his shoulder and gave Armie a soft smile before closing the door behind him.

Armie let out a sigh of relief. He gave it a full three minutes after he heard the shower running before he returned to his suitcase and began to pull out his clothes. He dressed quickly, then unpacked the rest of his things.

While he waited for Timmy to finish showering, he picked up the room phone. He had called for reservations before his shower, but he had another idea. Timmy wasn’t going to get dinner in bed, but Armie could see that he got breakfast in bed the next day.

When room service picked up, he explained that he wanted to pre-order breakfast for the next morning. To his surprise, they were expecting his call. They even had an order ready to suggest, and it was perfect, from the eggs/home fries/extra bacon order for Tim and the pancakes/extra bacon order for Armie. When he asked how they knew, they simply told him that it was their business to know...and that they had used the guest surveys to anticipate both the need for the order and what to put on it.

Apparently, the resort took their role in wish-fulfillment seriously. Armie had mentioned breakfast in bed during his interview as something he’d like to do for Timmy, after all. It was a little creepy, but also made him feel well cared for.

A short while later, the door to the bathroom opened and Tim emerged in a cloud of steam, droplets of water still clinging to his bare chest and stomach. Some were in motion, rolling down towards the towel he was holding closed with one hand at his hip.

“The other thing, is that it’s not even like I wanted it to be like that,” Timmy said, as if he was picking up a conversation midstream, which...maybe he was, but he had probably had the first part of it by himself in the shower. “But they all said it was better that way, and then look what happened.”

Armie laughed. “Back up. Wanted it to be like what? Better what way?”

“Oh.” Tim smiled sheepishly. “Did I not tell you the other part?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, at some point, but not just now. Give me a frame of reference,” Armie said.

“The social media thing,” Tim said. He launched into a lengthy explanation about social media appearances, and Armie nodded.

Okay, yes, this was a conversation they had been having in the past...few weeks, maybe. He listened as Tim chattered on for a minute, making small noises of assent.

Suddenly, with a large two-handed gesture for emphasis, Tim let go of his towel. It fell to the floor around his feet with a _whumpf_. Tim didn’t stop talking. He didn’t seem bothered. He simply stepped over the towel and crossed, fucking bare-assed _naked_ , to his suitcase, as if this was something he did in front of Armie every day.

Armie turned away, his mouth dry. He scanned the side of the room that did _not_ currently hold his walking wet dream. Sofa, sliding glass door, stupid hotel artwork, mirror — _no, look away from the mirror_ — remote control. _Aha_.

Armie lunged forward and grabbed the television remote. He sat on the sofa and flipped the television on, muting it, and stared blindly at the screen.

“So, like, I think next time I — hey, are you still listening?” Timmy asked.

“Sure,” Armie said. What had Tim just been saying? Something about not being pressured into social media actions he didn’t want to take. Right? “You’re completely right.”

“That’s what you would say if you weren’t listening.”

Armie decided to risk a glance in Tim’s direction, carefully keeping his gaze raised to head level. To his relief, Timmy was dressed. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously, his lips curved into a pout that was so pretty it made Armie want to lick it.

“I was listening,” he said, ignoring that last thought. “And you’re right. Don’t let anyone tell you what to do. You need to own your actions, because you’re the only one who will have to pay the consequences for them.”

He held his breath. Tim grinned at him, teeth and all. “That’s what I think,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You ready to go?” Armie asked, relieved.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, and hesitated. “Two minutes,” he said. “I just have to fix...this.”

He disappeared into the bathroom again.

Armie closed his eyes a moment and talked himself down, tried to be rational. Tim was acting so naturally, being his usual open, unguarded self. He wasn’t shying away, which meant he didn’t suspect anything was off.

It was going fine. Just _fine._

He was going to be able to pull it off. He felt himself calm, settle into a content state once more.

A few minutes later, they were on their way, and Armie was closing the door to the Villa behind them. They were barely two steps onto the path to the center of the resort when a soft hand was in his, sending his pulse jumping all over again.

Tim ambled along beside him, looking adorable in a pair of dark grey slacks and a green shirt that made his eyes shine like emeralds, and smelling fresh and fruity, his curls still slightly damp from his shower. He chattered on still, now about lighter topics.

Armie relaxed as they walked, and smiled down at this kid who had so captured his affections. Tim noticed, and stopped talking.

“What?” he asked, but he was smiling in return.

“Nothing,” said Armie. “You. I like hearing you talk.”

“Oh. I...am I talking too much?” Timmy asked, his cheeks turning pink.

On impulse, Armie leaned down and kissed one rosy spot, feeling the bloom of warmth under his lips. Timmy blushed harder at that and glanced down, his lashes standing out against his skin.

“No,” Armie said. “You’re not talking too much. At all. I like it. It’s been a while and I was just thinking how nice it is to hear you again and know you don’t have to stop.”

Tim looked up at him, a shine in his eyes. “I missed being able to just _talk_ to you, I think,” he said. “Like I know we talk all the time, whatever, but there’s always a sense that it’s temporary. I don’t want to be in your way or take too much time.”

“You couldn’t,” said Armie. “Seriously, you don’t know this by now? Maybe every so often something with my kids will make it so I can’t stay on the phone with you, but there’s pretty much nothing else. Or did me getting into trouble on set that time for having you on the line during a scene escape your notice?”

Timmy frowned. “I still feel bad about that,” he said.

Armie shrugged. “You were having a rough time. You needed me. There wasn’t anything else more important.” He squeezed Timmy’s hand and leaned into him. “Okay?”

Instead of answering, Tim turned his head and pressed his lips to Armie’s shoulder. It was a tiny gesture, one that may have been for the viewing benefit of another couple walking towards them, but Armie decided to take it as assent.

Soon, they reached the central resort area and located their intended restaurant. The host showed them to a small table by a window looking out over the beach. Armie ordered a scotch, and Tim followed suit, and soon they were sipping the smooth amber liquid and arguing over the better cut of steak.

Dinner was easy. This, they had done countless times. Shared a meal, nibbled off of each other’s plates, let the conversation wander naturally. Armie relaxed.

Later, he was feeling the warm glow of his third scotch while they waited for dessert, sitting back in his chair and watching Tim through hooded eyes as Tim told him a particularly ridiculous story about some of his most recent co-stars, when it happened.

Their server arrived with a single plate holding a slice of mango cheesecake — what Tim had ordered. There was a sparkler stuck in the center, hissing and popping as it showered its small bits of ignited magnesium or whatever these things were made of into the air around it.

Timmy’s eyes widened in delight as it was set in front of him, and Armie smiled at his reaction to this unexpected touch.

Just as Armie was about to ask the server where his chocolate cake was, Tim reached out and plucked the still-lit sparkler from the cheesecake. He then frowned and leaned closer to the dessert.

“Wait...what?” he asked.

When he looked back up, his green eyes were confused and worried. Armie stretched his neck to see what was causing the concern, and his mouth dropped open.

Sitting on top of the cheesecake, nestled in the mango sauce, was an engagement ring.

Oh, yeah. It was going fine. Just _fine_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Here’s to best friends and great kissing partners.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s back! I literally had to write this to find out what was going to happen. I legitimately didn’t know, and these two keep surprising me. 
> 
> 100% fiction. Probably.

_What. The. Hell_.

There was an engagement ring in Tim’s dessert. An _engagement_ ring. What was it doing there? It had to be a mistake. Right?

Armie felt his stomach churn as he remembered the way the resort had already set up their breakfast order, had delivered to their room a six-pack of the beer they had been drinking on the beach. How they had been adamant about making wishes come true. Had Armie said something that made them think he wanted to do this? They wouldn’t take such a drastic step without asking him, would they?

He tried to remember what he had said to Bri-whatever-her-name-was in the interview. He had said he wanted to...what?

_I wish he could know how much I really do love him, because he doesn’t have any idea._

Was it possible they interpreted that to mean that he wanted to fucking propose? That would be a ridiculous conclusion to draw. Unless...Armie was having trouble breathing. The tragic irony of it was that he _did_ wish he could propose. He wished he lived in a universe or a lifetime in which Tim could actually be his. But he didn’t. And this was all fake.

 _Right_.

It was all fake. What did it matter? It was fake. He could smile at Tim, pluck the ring out of the cheesecake, and get down on one knee, and then later they could laugh about it. It didn’t matter, it was all fake.

But Tim was looking at him, eyes wide. He looked...scared. Like he didn’t know how to act. And his lips were moving...oh. He was talking. Armie trying to quiet the rushing in his ears so that he could hear what the kid was saying.

“Armie,” he was muttering, his voice low and urgent. “Did you...is this part of…”

Armie shook his head slightly. The fact that he felt...disappointed...when Tim visibly relaxed at his words was stupid. Of course Tim would have tensed up when he thought Armie was taking their game this far. Of course he would be worried that he wouldn’t be able to fake delight at an “engagement” between their alter egos. Stupid to even have let himself fantasize about it for a second.

Tim pulled the now-spent sparkler out of the cheesecake and the snagged the ring carefully between his thumb and forefinger. He laughed, and then slipped it onto his pinky. It wouldn’t go past the second knuckle.

He waved a server over.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement. “Even if I thought my boyfriend might be planning to pop the question...this ring definitely isn’t for me.”

Tim held up his pinky to demonstrate. The server’s eyes went wide.

“Oh no,” she said. “That’s not yours?”

Armie had managed to recover from his earlier shock and spoke. “Unfortunately, no. It looks like a nice ring.“ He grabbed Timmy’s hand so he could see it more clearly, the yellow gold circle and the traditionally-set diamond. He pulled it off of Tim’s finger and held it up. “But if I were planning to propose to Doug — which I’m not saying I’m _not_ , sweetheart, be patient — this isn’t the ring I would choose for him.” He winked at Tim, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Tim blushed. That was impressive, but then...Tim was a great actor.

The server reached out and took both the ring and the plate of cheesecake. “I’m so sorry about this. I don’t know how it happened. Let me take this and figure out where it was supposed to go. And...find out what happened to your desserts.”

When she walked away, Tim snorted. He smiled at Armie. “That was wild,” he said. “For a second, I thought maybe you had arranged that, but then...I thought you probably would have warned me.”

“Right,” Armie said. “If we wanted to fake a proposal, we should probably both be in on it.”

“Then again,” Tim said, his eyes sparkling, “my shock would have been believable. And we _did_ say no boundaries.”

 _No boundaries._ Armie was still holding Tim’s hand. His pinky was sticky from where the mango sauce had clung to the ring. And there were no boundaries out in public.

Before he could change his mind, he brought Tim’s hand to his lips and licked along his pinky. He felt Tim go still. Even without looking, he could tell Tim was waiting to see what he would do next. He smiled against Tim’s hand. _I might as well enjoy this_ , he thought, sucking the entire digit into his mouth. He heard Tim’s soft intake of breath as he swirled his tongue around Tim’s finger, sucking at the lightly sweet mango flavor.

After a moment, he withdrew and released Tim’s hand. Tim was staring at him, his lips parted slightly, his nostrils flared.

Armie smiled. “You had a little something,” he said.

“Uh…” Tim blinked a few times, and then his face relaxed into a smile. “Yeah. Was it good? They took the dessert before I could try it.”

“Delicious,” Armie said, winking.

“I’ll have to take your word for it. Unless…” Tim hesitated a second, and then leaned around the corner of the table. He slipped a hand behind Armie’s neck and tugged him down, and the next thing Armie knew, Tim was kissing him.

Just like on the beach, as soon as it started, Armie’s brain turned off. He let Tim control the kiss this time, and Tim’s tongue slid past his lips and teeth, insistent, probing for any residual mango flavor. Taking the backseat allowed Armie to relish the sensation of kissing Tim again, and he felt a thrill of excitement that Tim had initiated this time.

After an indeterminate amount of time — certainly longer than needed to “taste” the mango sauce — Tim pulled back. He drew in a breath and then placed a gentle kiss at one corner of Armie’s mouth, and then the other. He was practically sitting in Armie’s lap at this point. Armie had one hand on Tim’s upper thigh and the other on his waist.

When had that happened?

“You’re right,” Tim murmured against his cheek. “It is delicious.”

Armie felt a blush of pleasure rising in his cheeks. He knew Tim was just playing the game, but the implications of his comment felt so real, and he couldn’t help but pretend it was. Gradually, he became aware that someone was standing to the side of the table, and he looked up.

A man in a suit smiled graciously down at the pair. He was holding their actual desserts, and set them down on the table.

“I’m glad to see our error hasn’t put a damper on your evening,” said the man. “I’m Francisco, and I’m the manager here. I’m so very sorry about the mistake with the ring. It’s been corrected, and you’ll be happy to know that the intended recipient said ‘yes.’”

“Good,” said Timmy, with a smile, as he shifted back onto his chair. “Glad to hear it.”

“In any event,” Francisco continued, “we apologize. I’ll be sending a small gift to your room as thanks for being so gracious, but is there anything else I can do to make your evening special?”

Armie shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said. “These things happen. No harm done.”

Francisco nodded. “We appreciate your understanding, sir. Do you have plans for the rest of the night?”

Armie glanced at Timmy, who shrugged. “I don’t think we’ve thought that far ahead,” he said. “Do you have suggestions?”

Francisco nodded. “Well, if you like jazz, you’ll want to head for the Blue Tang Club after dinner. One of our best local saxophonists is playing tonight, and her show is generally not to be missed.”

“That could be fun,” said Timmy. “What do you think?”

“Sure,” said Armie. “I’ll give anything a try.” Jazz wasn’t really his thing, but he’d do whatever Timmy wanted. The point was spending time together. _What_ they did didn't really matter. And he certainly wasn’t ready to go back to the room. He wanted to stay out in public as long as possible. Maybe kiss Tim some more.

Definitely kiss Tim some more.

Francisco thanked them again, shook their hands, and left them to their dessert.

The Blue Tang was a pleasant surprise. Rather than the musty, dark room that Armie had envisioned, it was an outdoor venue overlooking the beach. The interior was surrounded by half-walls and the roof was an open grid, allowing guests to see the moon sparkling on the ocean or the stars in the night sky above. A small raised stage and a dance floor were at one end of the room, a long bar on the other, and in between was a series of small, intimate corner booths for two with soft cushions perfect for nestling into.

A hostess led them to one such booth, and Armie slid in one side, Tim the other. They met in the middle, hips bumping. Neither moved away.

They had arrived between sets. Jazz music was pumped in through hidden speakers, and the club was nearly full. It seemed they had arrived just in time.

“Should we wait for a server or should I get us drinks?” Armie asked. He looked around the crowded space, saw only a couple of servers moving about, and decided to visit the bar himself. He slid out of the booth. “What would you like?”

Timmy scrunched up his nose. “A rum and coke?” he suggested.

Without thinking, Armie reached out a hand and tapped Tim’s wrinkled nose. Tim blinked up at him, nose back to normal.

“What did you do that for?” he asked.

“Your nose was being cute. I had to touch it.”

He turned and strode away, delighting in the sound of Tim’s surprised giggle behind him.

Because the club was getting packed, it took a little longer than Armie had thought it would to order and receive the drinks, and by the time he was headed back to the table, he was unnerved to note that Tim was no longer alone. A blonde woman was seated in Armie’s spot beside Tim. Their heads were tilted toward each other and they seemed in the midst of intense conversation.

Armie stopped a few feet behind the booth and frowned. Who was she, and why was she sitting with Tim? Did they know each other? Wasn’t this a couples resort? Where was her boyfriend or girlfriend?

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to close the distance to the booth. He came around the side enough to get a good look at the woman.

She was really more of a girl, possibly younger than Tim. She had a sleek, model look, with high cheekbones and full pouty lips — exactly the kind of thing he’d imagine Tim went for. It was the kind of thing _Armie_ had gone for, at that age.

He watched with growing annoyance as the girl laid her hand on Tim’s where it rested on the table, gently stroking his knuckles with slim fingers. He leaned closer and said something in her ear, and she laughed. Tim laughed with her.

Armie surged forward, desperate to interrupt this seemingly intimate moment. He set the drinks down on the table with a little more force than was strictly required, and Tim’s gaze snapped away from the girl to him in an instant.

His face broke into a wide smile. “You’re back,” he said.

“Yeah,” Armie replied. He couldn’t quite manage a similar smile, so he settled for a smirk. “Sorry it took so long. Hope you weren’t bored.”

“As long as you made it back.” Tim was grinning up at him and Armie wasn’t sure why. Suddenly, he seemed to remember the girl who still had her fucking hand on top of his. “Oh, and Caitlyn here was keeping me company.”

_Clearly._

The girl looked up at him appraisingly, and then gave him a brilliant smile.

“You must be Armie,” she said. She lifted a hand toward him, palm down. He knew this gesture. Liz used to do this. He was meant to hold her fingers from beneath and bow his head over it. Or kiss it, if he was feeling inclined.

He was not.

Grasping the tips of her fingers briefly, he barely nodded his head, but she looked satisfied.

“Do you two know each other?” Armie asked. Maybe they had worked together on an old project. Or gone to school together. High school or college.  

“No,” said Tim. “We just met. Caitlyn was all alone—”

“—and sad,” Caitlyn added.

“— so I offered to distract her while I was waiting for you.” Tim turned back to her. “How did I do, are you distracted?”

She laughed and stroked his hand again. “Absolutely.”

 _Fuck_ , Armie thought. Tim _was_ flirting with her. And she was flirting back. He felt sick. But...

“Hang on,” Armie said. “This is a couples resort. Where’s your...couple?”

Caitlyn sighed. “My boyfriend is being an asshole so I left him in the room and came out to have fun on my own.”

Armie stared at her, and then looked pointedly at Tim. “Should I…get another chair? Or...” He gestured awkwardly towards the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Caitlyn said, not sounding all that sorry. “I’m in your seat, I should go.” She made no move to leave.

“You don’t have to,” Tim said. He scooted closer to her, and Armie’s vision blurred at the edges. But then Tim patted the space on his other side. “There’s room for all of us.”

Tim raised his free hand toward Armie, and Armie helplessly took it, letting Tim tug him down into the booth. There wasn’t really enough room, a quarter of his ass was hanging off the edge of the seat, but Tim leaned into him, and didn’t let go of his hand. Suddenly Armie didn’t care about the lack of space at all.

Caitlyn grinned at them. “You two are so adorable,” she said. She finally took her hand off of Tim’s so that she could dramatically clutch at her heart. “I wish my boyfriend was as great as you seem to be, Armie. Tim’s so lucky.”

“I told you,” Tim said, “ _talk_ to him. He’s probably miserable too.”

She sighed. “You’re right. Okay, I’m going to leave you two alone to enjoy your evening. Thanks, Tim. Nice to meet you, Armie.”

She slid out of the booth, gave them a little wave, and moved away through the crowded space.

Tim watched her go. Unable to resist any longer, Armie said, “She’s very pretty.”

“What?” Tim turned to him, looking distracted. Then his eyes cleared. “Oh. Yeah, she’s definitely gorgeous.”

“Your type?” Armie asked.

Tim’s brows came together for a moment in confusion. “I don’t know. Not really.”

Armie stared down at the glossy black table in front of him, the untouched drinks he had brought back now surrounded with growing puddles of condensation. He cleared his throat. “If things go south with the boyfriend, are you going to go after her?”

“What? No.” Tim was frowning now. He shifted in the booth, scooting around to the spot Caitlyn had vacated, and pulled Armie with him so they were nestled into the corner. “What are you even talking about?”

“I was just thinking she seemed interested. Lots of flirting.”

“She wasn’t _flirting_ ,” Tim said.

“When they touch you a lot, it’s flirting,” Armie said dryly.

Tim stared at him. Then, inexplicably, he grinned. “Hold on. Are you _jealous_?” he asked.

He sounded _happy_ about the idea. Or at least amused.

“No, I’m not jealous,” Armie said, but he turned his face away. He was having trouble keeping his frustration at bay, and he didn’t want Tim to get a good look at his features until he had them under control.

Of course he was jealous. Tim was _his_ pretend boyfriend for the weekend. He didn’t want anything, especially some random girl, to ruin that.

Tim was quiet for a long moment before he spoke.

“ _Armie._ ” Tim placed his palms on Armie’s cheeks, pulled his face back around, and looked at him intently, his features serious. He leaned close, his voice a whisper. “I’m here with you. Okay?”

Armie wanted to pull away, but he simply couldn’t break his gaze away from Tim’s.

“Okay?” Tim asked a second time.

“Whatever,” Armie murmured. He swallowed thickly around the lump that was lodged in his throat. “If you wanted to...I mean, of course if you see someone you like and want me to make myself scarce, that’d be fine.”

“I _don’t_ want—“ Tim frowned, and started over. “I’m here with you. I’m not looking to get laid with some random I meet. I want to be here with you. Spend time with _you_. That was the whole point of this trip.”

Armie wished Tim could really mean what he was saying in the way Armie wanted him to mean it. He drew a shaky breath, and forced a smile.

“That’s sweet, kiddo, but I understand if you’ve got needs. We all do.”

Tim sighed. “So possessive,” he murmured, but he flushed a little, looking almost pleased. “I swear I was just cheering her up. I have zero interest in her or anyone else this weekend, if they aren’t you.”

Tim searched Armie’s face and seemed dissatisfied with what he found there.

“How can I…oh.” He smiled, and then leaned in to kiss Armie. “I promise.” Kiss. “I’m not interested.” Kiss. “In anyone else.” Kiss. “While I’m here with you.”

Each successive kiss was deeper, longer, until they were making out seriously. Armie fell into the sensations again, and as Tim set up a steady rhythm of kiss and retreat, he felt himself relaxing. With each slide of Tim’s tongue along the roof of his mouth, each brush of lips, each delicious moment of suction, the tension bled out of him until he could barely remember what had been bothering him in the first place.

A long while later, Tim rested their foreheads together and sighed happily.

“Much better,” he said, running a hand up Armie’s chest and cupping the side of his neck. “Don’t you think?” He sighed. “Shit, you’re a great kisser. It’s fun to kiss you.”

Armie’s stomach swooped at Tim’s words, and he found himself grinning helplessly. “Yeah?”

”Yes,” Tim said firmly.

“You’re a great kisser, too.” Armie swallowed, embarrassed now that the episode had passed. “Hey, sorry I got...weird.”

“Honestly? I kind of liked it. Knowing you want my full attention on you. Made me feel like...being here and getting to spend time together might be as important to you as it is to me.”

“It fucking is,” Armie said. “Stop that. You know I...you’re my best friend, you idiot. Don’t cheapen my affection by pretending it’s all one-sided.”

He reached up and tugged on a curl, and Tim blushed. Then he cleared his throat and looked around.

“Looks like they’re about to start the next set,” he said. He reached out and snagged their drinks, giving the condensation a moment to run off before placing Armie’s in his hand. He held up his glass. “Uh...here’s to best friends and great kissing partners,” he said.

“I’ll drink to that, because you are both,” Armie said. They tapped their glasses and drank.

Tim shifted closer to Armie, who took advantage by wrapping an arm around Tim and snuggling him close.

“So...what kind of ring is the right kind for me?” Tim asked suddenly.

Armie blinked at the change in subject, but caught up quickly. “Oh, you know,” he said. “Something unique and artistic.”

“Like what?” Tim asked, sounding intrigued.

Armie smiled. “First of all. Platinum, not gold. No diamond, and no stone in a raised setting.”

“No?”

“No. It should be a band, engraved with scrollwork and fleurs-de-lis. The fleurs-de-lis would be accented with tiny gems set flush with the band, none the same. Ruby, emerald, sapphire...the precious ones, in bright colors that would sparkle when you moved your hand.” Armie gazed up into the sky. He could see it as he described it, how perfect it would be for Tim.

Tim didn’t respond, and after a minute Armie looked down at him. He was watching Armie strangely.

Before Armie could react, Tim said, “Wow. That sounds…sort of perfect, actually.”

“Yeah? Well...I know what you like,” Armie said.

He hoped Tim couldn’t detect the true measure of how pleased he was that Tim liked his idea of an engagement band. It wasn’t like he had fantasized about it. Much. Or looked up custom design shops and ideas online. Much.

A cheer went up through the crowd, and their attention was drawn to the stage.

“Ah, here’s the music,” Armie said, a little too brightly.

Tim silently shifted even closer, rested his head on Armie’s shoulder. Armie sighed in contentment.

Even though he wasn’t really into jazz, at that moment, he hoped the show lasted all night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was so utterly and completely going to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was quick. A short surprise chapter for you to keep you on your toes. 
> 
> It’s short because this was the right spot to end it; it didn’t make sense to continue into the next scene from here. I also wanted to get this out because I’m booked solid (like, sunrise to midnight) through Sunday, and then will have to catch up on sleep, so it’ll be a few days before I can post anything else!
> 
> 100% fiction, probably.

He was so utterly and completely going to hell.

Armie knew it, without question. He had a one-way ticket just waiting for him, a direct flight with no stops for sightseeing. It was a done deal.

All because when Timmy stripped naked in front of him _for the second time that day_ , Armie broke. He gave in to the temptation. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He looked.

He tried not to make it obvious, of course. He was also changing clothes at the time, so it was a simple matter to have his head nominally pointed at his waist where he was unbuckling his belt and simultaneously glance to his right using only his eyes.

Well, maybe it was more than a glance. A brief perusal, perhaps. Okay, an ogle, but a short one.

Armie had simply reached the end of his very long rope, and that had to account for something, right?

After the show at the jazz club, which turned out to be quite good, they had decided to head back to the room and get some sleep so they could take full advantage of the next day. On the walk back, Tim — who had maybe had one too many rum and cokes — complained that his feet hurt and demanded a piggyback ride, of all things.

Before Armie could even laugh in disbelief at the request, Tim sprang onto his back, wrapping his long legs around Armie’s waist and practically strangling his neck. Armie recovered quickly, getting a hand under each knee and hiking Tim higher so that he could loop his arms a little lower.

They weren’t that far from the villa at the time, but it was far enough that when Tim giggled, whispered _we have to act like a couple_ and began to earnestly suck on Armie’s earlobe, he wasn’t sure he was going to make it. By the time they reached their door, Tim’s nibbling had brought Armie’s cock to full attention. It was a good thing it was dark and he was pretty sure he could hide it.

They entered the serenely lit room, where he deposited Tim on the bed. Tim immediately bounced up.

“Look,” he said, bounding across the room to the coffee table.

On the table sat a bottle of 18-year-old Macallan along with a handwritten note. Timmy snatched up the note and read it out loud.

“Thank you again for your gracious understanding about our unfortunate error during your evening meal. As an apology, please enjoy, and let us know if we can do anything else to make your stay a wish come true.” Tim grinned at Armie. “That’s pretty sweet. We get a good laugh out of their mistake _and_ a bottle of single malt.” He set the note down and picked up the scotch. “Let’s have a nightcap.”

Having had time to get himself under control, Armie joined him. The scotch was tempting. “You sure you should?” he asked. “You’re a little—“

“I’ll be fine,” Tim said. “One glass. And hey, I have an idea. Open this.”

He handed the scotch to Armie and darted to the back door. After flipping switches that turned on and off the overhead light above the living area and the lights on the lanai, he found the switch for the lights in the plunge pool. When he was done, the lanai was dark except for the pale blue glow emanating from underwater. Tim whirled around.

“Let’s use the pool.”

His grin was infectious. “Now?” Armie asked. “It’s midnight.”

“So? We’re on vacation. We have this beautiful pool and this beautiful view of the ocean at night. Come on, sit out there with me.” Tim looked so hopeful, Armie knew there was no way he was going to argue.

Armie opened the scotch. “Get the glasses and put on your swimsuit,” he said.

With a gleeful whoop, Tim grabbed two tumblers from the little bar and plunked them on the coffee table. Armie poured two fingers in each glass and then turned around.

Tim had already stripped off his shirt, kicked off his socks and shoes, and unbuckled his pants. “I put your suit on the bed,” he said, and then let his pants slide down to his ankles.

He wasn’t wearing underwear.

Armie quickly turned to the side, breath exploding from his lungs, and put his attention on his belt. Tim reached for his swim trunks and straightened up. He was right in the glow of the lamp next to the sofa, and if asked later, Armie would say someone else took control of his body, because god help him, he _looked._

Seeing Tim’s cock again after so long was overwhelming. The pockets of his jaw ached and something in his chest tightened.

He longed to do more than look. He remembered all too well what it felt like against his thigh — hours of lying around naked and tangled together during filming were impossible to forget — but now he wanted to know how it felt in his hand, in his mouth.  

With great difficulty, he looked away as Tim stepped into his suit and pulled it up his legs, covering himself once more.

Armie realized he _couldn’t_ strip in front of Tim now, because his own dick was awake again. He snatched up his suit. “I’ve got to take a piss,” he said. “I’ll meet you out there.”

“Okay,” Tim said, grinning at him.

In the bathroom, Armie splashed water on his face and talked himself back down. It was the fact that he had been drinking, it was the long day with a series of shocks, it was the overwhelming nature of _Tim_ after all this time...all of that was causing him to have more trouble than usual hiding his feelings. He just had to make it through a glass of scotch in the pool, and then they’d go to sleep, and tomorrow, in the daylight, it would be easier.

A few minutes later he made his way out onto the lanai. Tim was sitting in the pool, facing the ocean. The blue light from the pool flickered on his shoulders and face. It gave his skin an almost translucent tone, and with the blue-light streaking his hair, he looked like something out of the faerie realm. He glanced over his shoulder when Armie emerged.

“Come on in,” he said. “It’s perfect.”

Armie closed the glass door behind him and crossed to the pool. He sat on the edge, dangling his feet in for a moment, getting used to the temperature, which was only a few degrees lower than the air around them. He slid into the pool and settled on the ledge opposite Tim, his back to the ocean.

Tim frowned. “What are you doing over there?” he asked. “You’re sort of missing the point of the view by facing the wrong direction.”

Armie took a sip of his scotch. The smooth liquid soothed his nerves, so he took a second sip. Then he pushed off the ledge and half walked, half floated across the small pool to the other side, keeping only his shoulders and head above the water.  

He re-settled himself on the ledge a foot from Tim. Now that he could see the beach, he admitted Tim was right: sitting on this side was the better choice. The moon, bright in the sky, sparkled on the water. That feeling of peace settled over him again.

“You’re right,” he said. “The view is amazing. This _is_ perfect.”

Tim slid closer, until their hips were touching. “We’re outside,” he said. “Someone could see.”

Armie looked at the half walls on either side of the lanai, the darkness of the villa next door, the empty beach.

“There’s no one here,” he said. Instead of pulling away, however, he stretched his arm along the edge of the pool. “But...someone could walk by.”

Tim laughed softly and then settled into Armie’s side. They sipped their drinks in contented silence for a few minutes. Finally, Tim spoke.

“Thanks for coming here with me,” Tim said.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Armie replied.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Tim sighed. “I was kind of worried that you’d be mad, actually. When you found out the stupid thing my high ass had done, entering this contest and then not telling you about it ahead of time. So thanks for not...telling me to fuck off. I would have deserved it.”

Armie moved his hand from the ledge of the pool to Tim’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I’d never tell you to fuck off,” he said. “But Tim...you know you can just ask me for stuff, right? You don’t have to...make a thing of it. You could have just said _hey dude let’s go to the beach_ and I would have said _tell me where to meet you._  You didn’t need to wait to win a contest.”

Tim fidgeted slightly, shifting his weight from one side to the other, causing ripples in the water. He absently traced his toes along the designs on the bottom of the pool until the side of his foot bumped against Armie’s. He left it there.

“I think I know that,” he said. “It’s just that you’ve got all this... _stuff_ that makes up your life. Between your work, and your kids, and your friends, and your other obligations like the charities and whatever...I never know if you have, like, room for me. I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Shit, Tim.” Armie set his now-empty glass on the ledge and turned to face Tim full on. “Come on. You have to stop doubting me. There is _always_ room for you. You could go to dinner with my friends, come to charity events with me, go to dance class with Harper, come hang out at set...or just yank me away from all of that like you did. I’ll make room. Always.”

Tim blinked at him, his eyes shining from the glow of the pool. “I don’t even know what to say to that,” he murmured.

“Say, ‘you’re right, Armie. You’re always right.’”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Please,” he said. “You’re right, like, sixty percent of the time. At _most_.” He smacked Armie on the chest to punctuate his statement, and then left his palm there, a spot of solid warmth in contrast to the undulating water around it.

Armie couldn’t resist closing his own hand over Tim’s, giving it a soft caress. “Eighty-five percent, and not a bit less,” he said with a smirk. “And right now, since we’re both done with our nightcap, I’m right about the fact that we’re tired and we should hit the sack.”

Tim yawned suddenly, as if Armie’s words about being tired had instantaneously manifested themselves in his body. Armie laughed. He stood and pushed himself onto the ledge, then reached out a hand to Tim and hauled him out of the water. They both shivered in the sudden breeze that blew in off the ocean, and Armie led the way inside.

They shivered some more in the air conditioning. Armie was suddenly realizing how exhausted he really was and desperately wanted to be horizontal and under the covers, no longer caring that they were about to share a bed; the way he felt, he’d be asleep in seconds. He loped into the bathroom, grabbed two fluffy towels, and returned, tossing one to Tim. They dried off and traded swimsuits for sleep pants. Armie was able to resist looking this time, focused as he was on the act of getting into position to sleep.

He slid into the turned down bed while Tim hung the suits and towels in the bathroom and returned with bottles of water. He handed one to Armie.

“Drink up,” he said. “Hydrate yourself so you don’t get an old man hangover.”

“I’m not an old man,” Armie grumbled. But he drank the entire bottle in one go because Tim was right. His hangovers were starting to suck. He hadn’t even had that much to drink that night, but could still wake up with a headache if he didn’t take care of himself. They never used to be this bad. _Tim_ would probably still bounce back in the morning with no problem, but he was starting to need to be more careful.

“Don’t worry, you’ve still got a few good years left in you.” Tim gave him a smirk and then disposed of the empty water bottles.

When he climbed into bed beside Armie a few moments later, he let out a soft groan of pleasure.

“I know, right?” Armie said. The bedding was soft and fresh, the mattress like a cloud, and being under the covers was smoothing out his goose flesh.

“So...comfortable…” Tim murmured.

Armie reached out a long arm and flipped off the only remaining light, plunging the room into darkness. He lay on his back, his eyes closed, listening to Timmy breathing a couple of feet away.

It was a little bit of a weird feeling to be in bed with Tin and not be touching him. In the past, whey had shared a bed — not even counting the times there were cameras on them — it was always about comfort. Not wanting to be alone, needing the other person. So they had slept nestled together.

Armie missed that. Had _been_ missing it for a long time. Now, Tim was so close...his fingers itched to pull Tim to his side. Slowly, he slid his hands underneath him, a reminder to keep them to himself.

After a while, the urge seemed to pass, and he relaxed.

Just as he was starting to fall towards slumber, the mattress moved. “Armie?” Tim’s voice drifted towards him, barely more than a whisper.

“Mmmmm?”

“You still awake?”

“Only kind of.” Armie rolled his head to the left, trying to make out Tim’s shape in the darkness. He was lying on his side, facing Armie. “What’s the matter?”

“I was just thinking about how this is the first time we’ve slept in the same bed since I was living at your place. Remember?”

“Yeah,” Armie said. “I do. You were really skinny then. All pointy bones and sharp angles in my arms. I was almost afraid I’d crush you in my sleep.”

“I’m not as skinny now.”

“I’m glad. That fucking scared me to death, Tim. I know it was for your art and whatever but Jesus Christ.” Even remembering it made Armie want to punch someone for putting Tim through that.

“Well, so you won’t crush me. Now.” Tim stopped talking, but it seemed almost like a pause, a hesitation, so Armie waited to see where Tim was going with this. Just when he thought he was wrong, Tim spoke again. “I’m not as bony and...sharp, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Armie said. He still wasn't sure what the point of the conversation was.

The mattress moved again, and the covers shifted, and suddenly Tim was close. He rolled into Armie’s side, curled up against his arm, rested his head on Armie’s shoulder. Armie tensed.

“Is this okay?” Tim asked. “I know it’s been a while but it felt weird to be over there.”

Was it okay? Armie thought it was probably a terrible idea to be this close to Tim while he slept. A terrible, horrible idea. But, since he was going to hell already anyhow...

“Hang on,” he said, and worked his arm out from between them. Tim settled into the new spot, his head now on Armie’s chest and his hand resting on Armie’s stomach. Armie wrapped his arm around Tim’s shoulders.

They both let out a sigh.

“Better?” Armie asked.

“Mmmhmm,” Tim said. “‘Night, Armie.”

“Goodnight, Timmy.” Armie tilted his head down so that his nose was buried in Tim’s curls. He took what he hoped was a silent breath, letting Tim’s scent surround him. It was torture. Beautiful, terrible torture.

As Tim snuggled against him, Armie realized he had been wrong. He wasn’t going to hell. He was already there.

The irony was that, at the same time, he was in heaven.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a rambly chapter that didn’t get as far as I thought...but I’m giving it to you anyway. 
> 
> Writing this for blueishdesire is so much fun. 
> 
> Still am writing without much of a plan. 
> 
> More soon.
> 
> 100% fiction, probably.

Armie blinked awake with a smile on his face. He had been having the most amazing dream.

_He and Tim were together, and they were on their honeymoon on a Caribbean island. Just before he woke up, Tim had been standing over him on the beach while he lay in the sand. He squinted up at Tim, who was barely blocking the sun, his position creating an ethereal glow around his lanky frame. Despite the fact that the sun behind Tim made his face difficult to see, Armie knew he was smiling._

_Tim said, “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you forever.”_

_“Forever?” Armie asked._

_“Seems like it.” He sank cross-legged onto the sand, his bare knees settling on Armie’s ribs and hip. Armie set a hand on the knee by his hip and squeezed._

_“I’m sorry,” Armie said. “I got here as fast as I could.”_

_Tim laid a hand on Armie’s heart. “I would have waited seven times as long,” he said. “But next time try not to think so much. Just...ask me.”_

_“I will,” Armie said. “Promise.”_

_“Okay, don’t forget,” Tim said. “It’s time to get up now.”_

_He jumped to his feet, spraying sand everywhere, and reached down a hand. Armie took it and let Tim pull him up and into a kiss._

And that’s when he woke up.

The blissful feeling of the dream faded, slowly at first as he became fully conscious and reality returned, and then all at once when he went to stretch and found that he was trapped under a pile of sleeping Tim.

Sometime during the night, Tim had gone from curled up at his side with a head on his shoulder and a hand on his stomach to sprawled on top of him like an octopus.

Tim’s chest was pressed to Armie’s, his arms spread out on either side and curled underneath Armie’s shoulders. His cheek was cradled perfectly into the spot where Armie’s neck met his shoulder, and his breath was tickling the hollow of Armie’s throat. Tim’s hips rested flush against Armie’s, and his legs were flung wide, his calves hooked around Armie’s knees.

It was nice. Armie loved the feeling of having every part of Tim’s body touching every part of his own. He loved that, while they slept, some part of Tim’s subconscious had sought that total contact.

He wondered about the time. The shades were drawn across the sliding glass doors and the windows, but bright strips of light peeked around the edges. Armie reached towards the bedside table and retrieved his phone. A quick glance at the screen told him he had about twenty minutes before their pre-ordered breakfast would be delivered.

Since he had a little time, and since Tim was still snoring lightly into his neck, Armie allowed himself a moment to enjoy having Tim so close. He imagined that they were a real couple, and that he could wake Tim up slowly by running his fingers gently all over Tim’s back. He would be able to feel the ridges of his spine, the bumps of his ribs, the curve of his narrow waist. Then he would skim his hands down to rest on Tim’s tiny ass. He’d squeeze gently, and then more firmly, until Tim squirmed. As soon as his hips shifted, Armie would press his own hips up and down, using small, gentle motions, until Tim responded.

Speaking of which...the contentedness Armie had been feeling evaporated drop by drop as he became aware of the precariousness of his current situation. He was sporting his own morning wood, made worse by his little trip into fantasyland. He could feel Tim’s too, a hard line against his groin.

Armie swallowed. It wasn’t a big deal. It had happened before. Not so much when they were sleeping — usually — but back when they were filming it was common. The first time, Tim was mortified, turning pink and stuttering apologies until Armie had made it clear he wasn’t alone.

After that, they had laughed about it. Joked that they were both attractive, _really into_ the headspace of the characters. They were naked, things were...rubbing, they were only human. And wasn’t it nice they could be comfortable enough with each other and professional enough not to make a big deal about it?

Of course, back then, Armie had still been in denial. He couldn’t be actually attracted to his co-star because, in the first place, his co-star was male and he was straight. Also, he was married. He chalked it up to an intense filming experience, and when the filming was over he shoved it into a box and closed it up tight.

As the time wore on, the lid on that box loosened, then opened. First, in the months after filming, he and Timmy didn’t fall out of contact the way he expected they would. They kept _talking_. He found himself wanting to tell Tim about things before even his wife, dialing Tim’s number when he felt down or needed to hear a familiar voice.

Then Tim had moved in with him for a time, needed him. They had leaned on each other during the lengthy promo tour. And by the time that was over, the box had disintegrated and Armie had been forced to admit that this _stuff_ he was feeling for Tim was real.

So...this wasn’t the first time he had felt Tim’s cock hard against his skin, wasn’t the first time Tim had felt his. But so much had changed since then. Would Armie still be able to laugh it off? Ignore it?

He figured the easiest thing for him to do was to get Tim off of him before he really woke up. That way, Tim might not even be aware of it.

Slowly, holding his breath so as to make as little movement as possible, Armie laid his hands on Tim’s back, palms flat, one at his shoulder blades and one at his waist. Tim stopped snoring and made a small noise, but didn’t wake up. Armie carefully raised his right leg enough to get his foot flat on the mattress, so he’d have some leverage. Then, after counting to three, he rolled left.

The plan was to roll Tim onto his side of the bed and roll back. Simple. Foolproof as long as Tim didn’t wake up until the rolling was finished.

What Armie hadn’t counted on was just how firmly Tim was latched onto him, even in sleep.

The roll left was fine. When Armie went to roll back, however, he found that he was trapped, caught tight by Tim’s arms and legs. As he tried to dislodge a leg, the arms tightened, and he felt Tim’s hands slide firmly lower, dropping from his shoulders until they rested just over his hips.

Armie stilled. Tim hadn’t said anything, hadn’t really moved his head from where it was nestled in Armie’s neck. He waited, but Tim still seemed to be asleep.

Once more, Armie made an attempt to free himself from Tim’s grip. This time, Tim murmured something into Armie’s neck, his lips sliding along Armie’s sensitive skin, and then...he pulled Armie closer. Now Armie’s hips were once again mashed to Tim’s.

Armie’s heart was beating wildly, but Tim still seemed to be mostly asleep. He took a few deep breaths to calm down, and then shifted tactics. If he couldn’t get away before Tim woke up, he could wake Tim up and pretend to be asleep.

He brought his hand up and stroked through Tim’s hair, momentarily enjoying the way the silky curls slid through his fingers. Tim hummed contentedly. Armie then rolled back to their original position, purposefully landing a little roughly.

As he heard Tim snort and felt him raise his head, Armie closed his eyes and let his mouth go slack. Then he waited.

At first, nothing happened. Armie breathed in and out slowly, hoping that his heart — which he was sure Tim could feel — would continue to beat steadily and not go out of control again.

He heard a soft “ _fuck”_  and then Tim was moving off of him. He choked back a gasp as Tim slid across his dick, hoping the kid wouldn’t notice quite how hard he still was.

He expected Tim to roll away. Instead, he curled back against Armie’s side, snaking one leg over Armie’s thigh and sliding a palm across Armie’s stomach until it came to rest on the opposite hip, just above his groin. In that position, Armie realized in horror, Tim’s forearm had to be a quarter inch from where his dick was straining against his boxers.

He tried thinking of the least sexy things possible — puking, his mother, the DMV — willing his cock to behave. It sort of worked, and as he got himself slightly more under control he wondered if Tim was also pretending to be asleep beside him.

Deciding enough was enough — and that it was probably almost time for breakfast to arrive — Armie opened his eyes. He turned his head to the left.

Tim was watching him, his eyes sleepy but aware.

“Morning,” Tim said.

“Morning,” Armie replied.

“What time is it?” Tim tucked his head into Armie’s shoulder and yawned.

“Almost time to get up,” Armie said.

Tim made an unhappy noise and snuggled closer. “Can’t,” he mumbled. “Too comfortable.”

Despite his earlier concerns, Armie’s heart warmed at Tim’s words. He forgot about being embarrassed and suddenly rolled towards Tim, gathering him up with one hand and yanking the covers over them with the other. He pulled Tim close in a warm embrace and kissed the top of his head.

Now Armie didn’t want to get out of bed either, especially when Tim burrowed closer into his chest with a happy sigh.

“I know,” he said. “But I’ve got to get up. I...have to use the bathroom and it can’t wait. You stay here though, sleep some more.”

Tim let out a soft whine, and then looked up. He was pouting, his soft pink lower lip jutting out. It was glistening slightly, and Armie clamped down on his desire to suck on it.

“Fine,” Tim said. “I guess I don’t want you peeing the bed. But...come back when you’re done?”

Armie wondered briefly if he was still dreaming. If he hadn’t actually woken up. The way Tim was looking at him…

Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned in and kissed Tim gently. When he pulled back, Tim’s eyes were wide hazel pools.

“Sorry,” Armie mumbled, his face flushing. “Habit.”

He forced himself to move away, slip out of Tim’s grasp, and roll out of bed. As he fled to the bathroom, chanting _stupid, stupid, this is what happens when you let your guard down,_ Tim called his name. He turned, apprehensive, one hand on the bathroom door. Tim was propped on one elbow, his hair sticking out in all directions.

“Yeah?”

Tim smiled sheepishly. “I told you yesterday, kissing you is fun. Kiss me anytime you want.” 

“I...yeah. Okay,” Armie said.

Tim slid back out of view, once more buried in the covers. Armie stared at the Tim-shaped lumps for a moment, going over the conversation in his head. _Kiss me anytime you want_. Right. That was a great idea. Tim would be thinking they were having a little fun while Armie would fall deeper and deeper under Tim’s spell.

Then again...even freer license to kiss Tim.

It was a fucking conundrum, that was for sure.

Armie was emerging from the bathroom when the doorbell sounded. Tim’s head once again popped out from under the covers.

“Who’s that?” he asked, his brows drawn together in confusion.

Armie grinned and crossed to the dresser where he had left his wallet the night before. “Stay there,” he said. “I’ll go see.”

At the door was a young man holding a large basket.

“Your breakfast, sir,” the man said. He offered the basket to Armie, and then handed over an envelope. “And this is some information for today. Schedules, suggested activities, things like that. They asked me to mention that they have scheduled you both an appointment at the spa at ten.”

Armie glanced over at the clock on the microwave. That gave them an hour and a half. Do-able.

“Thanks,” he said. He passed a few bills to the man, who thanked him and turned away.

By the time Armie returned, Tim was sitting up, looking alert and curious.

“Who was there? What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the basket.

“Just stay there and I’ll show you.” Armie set the basket on the coffee table and unfastened the center clasp. He pulled open the flaps and the smells of breakfast swirled out, freed from their insulated chamber.

The basket contained two collapsible trays. He set those up first, beside the basket. Then he poked through the other contents. He placed a coffee cup on each tray and filled them both with dark, aromatic coffee. Even the scent of it perked him up, as though the caffeine could travel into his blood that way.

“Breakfast? Is that room service?” Tim asked.

Armie glanced over his shoulder and grinned at the look of delight on Tim’s face. “Stay there,” he warned. “I’ll bring it to you.”

He turned his attentions back to the basket and proceeded to prepare the coffees, then set out the covered plates appropriately. He added the little ketchup bottle to Tim’s tray and then brought it over to the bed.

Tim had repositioned himself into a cross-legged position and patted the blankets in front of him. Armie set the tray down and went to get his own, settling opposite Tim in a similar position. By this time, Tim had lifted the lids from his plates and was gaping at the food.

“This is...exactly what I want,” Tim said, surveying the eggs, home fries, and extra bacon. “How did they _know?”_

Armie busied himself with drizzling syrup on his pancakes, but he couldn’t help a little smile.

Timmy whacked his shoulder. “You did this,” he said. “When did you do this?”

“I only sort of did,” Armie said, shoveling a bite of soggy pancake into his mouth and swallowing. They were _good_ pancakes. “I called yesterday evening while you were in the shower, but they already had the order ready.”

Tim stared at him, then broke off some bacon. “But then…”

“In the interview, when they asked me what special things I’d like to do for you, I may have mentioned that I’d like to get you breakfast in bed.” Armie shrugged. “I think that’s their schtick. Like...they say they’re in the business of wish fulfillment, and so they find out what you want and give it to you.”

Tim was staring at the breakfast again, smiling. “You got me breakfast in bed,” he said quietly.

“You like being spoiled,” Armie said. “So…”

“Thanks,” said Timmy, looking up at him through long lashes.

“Eat up,” Armie said. “We have spa appointments in an hour and a half.”

“We do? Did you do that, too?”

“No. The guy who brought the food gave me info about things going on today and told me about the appointments. So that’s the resort’s doing.”

Or...maybe he had done it, Armie realized. He had also told the interviewer that he would like to give Tim a massage, so, it stood to reason that they set up massage appointments to fulfill that wish.

Armie wondered what else the resort had in store.

* * *

The spa was high end, as spas went. Armie would have expected no less, considering what he had seen at the resort so far.

The moment they walked into the sprawling building, which was set on a quiet side path away from the ocean, he had gotten a sense of serenity and peace. It might have been that the air was scented with jasmine and eucalyptus — he could thank Elizabeth for the fact that he could recognize that — or it might have been the airy entryway, the muted, soothing colors. It may have been that the woman who greeted them had a voice that made him want to close his eyes and be read to sleep. Whatever it was, the spa was doing things right.

They were ushered into a locker room, where the attendant demonstrated how to use the double-sized lockers, and brought them squishy microfiber slippers and plush robes that smelled of lemongrass. He showed them the separate lounge area with tea and infused waters, the showers, the array of toiletries at their disposal, and the sauna, steam room, and jacuzzi, telling them they had about forty-five minutes of pre-session relaxation built into their session, so should feel free to partake of any of the facilities.

When he left, Tim grinned. Armie couldn’t help but grin back. Tim looked excited, and that made Armie’s pulse race a little too. It was always fun to watch Tim experience new things, to find delight in experiences. He had _missed_ being a part of that.

“This is super nice. I mean, I think. I haven’t been to many spas, but it feels nice,” he said. “I want to — do you want to use any of the, like, sauna and stuff?”

“It’s nice,” Armie confirmed. “And sure. Pick your poison.”

Tim tapped a finger against his lips, thinking. “Sauna,” he said. “Seems like the steam room would just be...wet. And we didn’t bring our swimsuits for the jacuzzi.”

Armie hesitated, trying to decide if he should tell Tim. He sighed, hoping that he wasn’t about to shoot himself in the foot.

“I think you’re meant to go without,” Armie said. “Usually in these places you just kind of...it’s why it’s in the locker room, single sex only.” He held his breath. The absolute last thing he needed was for Tim to decide they should get naked together in the public hot tub.  

“Oh. _Oh._ ” Tim’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know if I’d be comfortable with that. Is that...stupid?”

“No,” Armie said, relieved. “It’s not stupid. In fact it’s probably a good idea not to strip down in public. People would pay a lot for those photos.” The thought of anyone else getting to look at Tim naked sent a bolt of jealousy through him, and he resolutely shoved it back down. Trying to get the light mood back, he wiggled his eyebrows.

Tim burst out laughing. “Sauna it is. Let’s get changed.”

They got into the robes and stowed their clothes — it was getting slightly easier to change with Tim in the room, but only _slightly_ — and headed for the sauna. It was a small room, really only big enough for the two of them. The wooden bench lined three walls, but were set up to encourage two people to stretch out on opposite sides, their backs against an inclined piece that lay against the rear wall.

After settling in, Armie closed his eyes. He took deep breaths, feeling the heated air filling his lungs and warming him from within at the same time the hot wooden slats at his back and underneath him radiated warmth into his skin through the robe. In minutes, he was feeling completely and totally relaxed.

He swiveled his head to the side and opened his eyes to check on Tim, smiling to find him in a clearly similar state of release. Tim’s eyes were closed, and his mouth was open slightly, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths. Without thinking it through, Armie reached across the space and smoothed a curl back from Tim’s forehead.

Tim opened his eyes and smiled. “What?” he asked.

“Feeling good?” Armie pulled his hand back to safety, set it in his lap.

“This is...how come I’ve never done this before?” Tim mused. “I’m so warm. From the inside. It makes me feel very...still. You know?”

“I do know,” Armie replied. He was all too familiar with the sensation of being in constant motion, where even while trying to rest he was internally whirring at a high speed. It was something they had always had in common, though he was better at hiding it than Tim was.

They sat in silence for a while. Armie let his eyes drift closed, let the peace settle over him. He could hear Timmy breathing softly, but otherwise the space was totally silent. They were cut off from the world outside as well. It was like being in a warm, safe cocoon.

It was comforting, to think that the only other person in his cocoon was Timmy.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and was surprised to find Tim watching him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I guess it’s my turn to say ‘what?’” he asked.

Tim smiled. “Nothing. I was wondering if you had fallen asleep.”

Armie shook his head. “Not asleep,” he said. “Just...resting. But I think it’s time to get out before we roast all the way through.”

“I could use some water,” Tim agreed.

The air outside the sauna was both refreshing and chilling. Armie led the way into the lounge area, where they each chugged a small cup of cucumber water and mopped their faces with a cool, damp towel. Armie glanced at the clock. They had another twenty minutes before their session.

He sank into an armchair in the corner. Tim hesitated nearby.

“Take a seat,” Armie said. He waved his hand at the empty lounge area. “You’ve got your pick.”

After one more moment of hesitation, Tim moved swiftly, and Armie found himself with an armful of robe-clad Timmy.

“No boundaries, right?” Tim said, squirming into a comfortable position, which turned out to be with his ass in Armie’s lap and his legs dangling over one arm of the chair. “Public place.”

“Right.” Armie laughed nervously. His arms had automatically risen to hold Tim, one supporting his back and the other palm resting on his knees. He liked having Tim here, close. He squeezed Tim’s knee and was suddenly reminded of his dream, how it felt to know Tim was his. He felt an ache form deep in his chest.

“Hey,” Timmy said, his voice hushed. “You’ve been worrying. Stressed.”

“I…I’m okay,” Armie said, surprised at how difficult it seemed to speak all of a sudden.

“I can tell, though. You’ve got little lines here, and here.” His fingers were suddenly skimming over Armie’s cheeks, around his mouth, up between his eyes. Armie stilled.

“I’m just getting old,” Armie said. He tried to smile, but the thought made the ache in his chest expand. He wasn’t old...but maybe he was getting too old to be living inside a fantasy.

“No, these aren’t age wrinkles.” Tim’s fingers continued their dance, his touch featherlight. “These are stress wrinkles. What’s been bothering you? Is it the divorce?”

The divorce hadn’t been easy, of course. Divorces never are. Making a decision to end the only real relationship he had had in his entire adult life, to separate from the woman he had at one time been so sure was the one for him, to be apart from his children...it was a hard step to take.

But he had made it months ago. Had learned to accept the new normal, to identify as single once again. Signing the papers had brought some of the insecurity in the decision back, but had also been a relief. It was done.

He shook his head. “No. I don’t know, maybe a little.”

“You can talk to me about it, if you want,” Tim murmured. He pressed a little harder with the tips of his fingers now, as if trying to smooth out the lines. Armie closed his eyes, feeling the pleasure in the simple touch. “I know it can’t have been a fun thing to go through, but you never...you didn’t seem to want to talk about it before so I didn’t push.”

“I didn’t want to bother you with boring tales of my failure,” Armie said. As soon as he said it, he knew it was true. Aside from the general sadness that meets the end of any relationship, he felt like he had failed. Failed at being a husband, a father, a partner.

“Armie.” Tim’s voice was stern. “You’re not a failure. Cut that out, you know I don’t like you talking bad about yourself.”

Armie opened his eyes and met Tim’s, which were a gold-green, the color of an over-sunned field. He made his lips curve into a smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “But it feels that way.”

“Can I ask…” Tim bit his lip and worried it between his teeth a moment. Armie waited for him to say whatever he was screwing up the guts to say. “What was it about? I mean...what made you decide to do it?”

Armie hesitated. He couldn’t tell Timmy the truth, but he also didn’t want to lie.

“I realized some things,” he said, finally. “Some...stuff happened, and I just looked up one day and thought, ‘This isn’t what I want or need anymore.’”

Tim frowned. “Was there...was there someone else?” he asked. “You never said, but Elizabeth mentioned something once that made me think you maybe...that you were having an affair.”

 _Shit_. That was too close to the truth. Armie thought for a moment about what to say. With a sigh, he decided to stick with the truth...mostly.

“I wasn’t having an affair,” he said. “Elizabeth and I...people change, Tim. They don’t stay the same forever. If a couple is lucky, they’ll grow together. We grew in different directions, and we were no longer interested in the same life.”

Tim ran his fingers along Armie’s jaw, down his neck, into the vee of his robe, where they settled and stilled. It was soothing, and Armie felt his shoulders release some of the tension they had been holding.

“Did it happen all of a sudden?” Tim asked. “Because that sounds like a gradual thing, and maybe I’m an idiot, but you two seemed so happy.”

Armie gave Tim a wry smile. “It _was_ a gradual thing,” he said. “We were great at presenting a united front, I think because neither of us wanted to admit we had grown apart and that it wasn’t salvageable. But it had been going on before Ford was even conceived. And I think I probably would have just lived with it, let us continue to grow farther and farther apart, if I hadn’t —“

He stopped abruptly. Having Tim sitting in his lap, their faces close, had lulled him into a false sense of security. He had been about to say, _if I hadn’t met you._

“If you hadn’t what?” Tim asked.

Armie hesitated, then said, “I had reason to take a look at my life a little more closely. Ask myself if I was actually happy, or just pretending to be. And I realized I couldn’t just keep pretending forever. It wasn’t just me. We were...both feeling it. So it was sad, but we decided together that it was time.”

”Do you still love her?” Tim asked.

“I...” Armie tried to figure out how to explain. “Yes. I always will. I was never...there wasn’t anything bad between us, really. There may have ended up being more negative things if we had let it fester for too long. But it was more that there was a lack of something we needed and wanted. And we couldn’t find it with each other.”

”So you made the right choice, then.” Tim flattened his palm on Armie’s chest, his fingertips slipping underneath the robe  

“I think so,” Armie said. “I mean, I guess time will tell. This week, right before it all became final, I had a moment of...I don’t know, I guess I freaked out at the finality of it, knowing I was giving up time with my kids, stability. I kept looking at her and trying to see the woman I had married. I almost could, but not quite. So I signed, we hugged, and...here I am.”

Tim was looking so concerned, a little line showing between his own brows, and that fact made some of the cracks the divorce had left behind fill in, fuse together.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m fine,” Armie said. He grabbed Tim’s hand from his chest and squeezed. “I’m not just saying that. This kind of thing is never going to feel... _good_ , especially since I care about her. But it’s good that it’s done now. I can move forward. Focus on what’s next.”

Tim’s face smoothed out, relaxed. “And what’s next for you?” he asked.

“This,” Armie said. “Hanging with my best friend, taking a much needed break. Getting back to the beach. It’s good for the soul. You’ve got impeccable timing.”

The grin that lit up Tim’s features was contagious, and Armie felt his own lips curve in response. He felt himself leaning in, and was helpless to stop it. They were inches apart. This close, intimate conversation, in which he had _almost_ revealed his feelings to Tim, was overwhelming.

He closed the distance between them, capturing Tim’s mouth in a firm kiss, using their circumstances once again to show Tim how he felt even though he couldn’t ever say it. Tim’s lips parted, and the kiss slowed as Armie stroked the inside of his mouth, felt Tim’s hand flex in his own. Armie slid his other hand up Tim’s back and into his hair, holding him close.

When they pulled apart, a little breathless, Tim placed a hand on the side of Armie’s neck and tilted his head to the left with a tiny smile. “What was that for?”

“Kiss you anytime I want, right?” Armie said. He should probably just say he thought someone was walking around the corner. He should laugh it off. Instead, what came out of his mouth was: “Well...I wanted.”

Tim’s eyes dropped to Armie’s chest, and when he looked up, his eyes were a sliver of deep green around widened pupils, all the gold vanished. He looked like he was about to say something. Armie held his breath. Had Armie overstepped? Was Tim about to retract his earlier permission? Or...something else?

Just then, the door to the lounge opened, and a cheery young woman poked her head inside.

“Mr. Flender and Mr. Mobley?” she asked.

Armie cleared his throat. “That’s us,” he said.

“Perfect,” she said. “My name’s Janine. Are you ready for your lesson?”

“Lesson?” Tim shifted in Armie’s lap as he twisted around to see her better.

“Yes. By the end of the session, you two will practically be pros at giving each other massages.” She beamed at them.

Armie’s mouth went dry. He was going to be allowed to put his hands all over Tim? With absolutely no consequences?

Tim turned back to Armie, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I guess it’s time to get up now,” he said.

Once again, Armie was flung back to the dream he had had that morning. As he stood and set Tim on his feet, he waited for the ache to settle in his chest again, but this time it wasn’t there.

He might never get what he had in his dream, but he had this weekend. And he was going to enjoy it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was a kid, Armie had a rich fantasy life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always intend for chapters to cover more of the plot and then I kind of get carried away. I should just admit that I write long and don’t edit down very well. There, I've admitted it. I’m owning it. You’re all witnesses. 
> 
> Enjoy the massage. Don’t forget to drink lots of water afterward, and be careful getting up because you might be lightheaded.

When he was a kid, Armie had a rich fantasy life.

It was a necessity born out of living in an isolated place — albeit a _nice_ isolated place — without the usual connections that most kids grow up with. There was also the matter of the strict rules he endured, the lectures about the hell that was waiting for him if he didn’t follow those (seemingly ever-shifting) rules.

So he spent a lot of time in his own head, making up characters and stories, imagining what his life would be like when he grew up and had control of his own fate. He pretended he was a superhero or a pilot or a world-famous surgeon. He wove complex fantasies about his vast network of friends and the trouble they would make.

In short, his childhood was less about what _was_ and more about what _could be_.

With that sort of background, was it at all surprising that he continued to create and live inside a fantasy life rather than face his lonely current reality? Of course not. So when Timmy took his hand as Janine led them through the quiet hallways to their massage room, he pretended it was real.

The room was more spacious than most massage rooms Armie had been in before. A single table was positioned in the middle of the room, draped in sheets.

“We have approximately an hour and a half today,” Janine said, once she had ushered them into the room and closed the door. “You’ll each get a turn on the table and a turn giving massage. Who’s first?”

Armie looked down at Tim, who was chewing on his lower lip again. That meant he was nervous, probably about performing. It would be just like Timmy to be worried he wouldn’t be able to massage the exact right way, to be afraid of screwing it up. Armie squeezed Tim’s hand.

“I’ll get the lesson first,” he said. “Doug can take his turn on the table.” Tim smiled gratefully, and then ducked his head.

“Fantastic. Doug, you can undress to your comfort level and start facedown on the table. I’ll step out to give you a moment.” Janine backed out of the room and closed the door again, leaving them alone.

Tim’s gaze flickered to Armie’s eyes and then away. “I’m not wearing anything under the robe,” he said. “I didn’t...I wasn’t thinking about it and—”

“I’m not either,” Armie said. “It’s fine. I can turn away.”

“No, I don’t care about...I meant that when we changed, I wasn’t thinking about the fact that you’d have to be touching me without…” He took a deep breath and met Armie’s gaze head on. “Do you want me to go put on boxers?”

 _No way_ , Armie thought. But he maintained his cool — _good for me_ , he thought — and simply said, “If you want, but it’s really not a big deal.”

Tim hesitated a moment, and then nodded. “Right. It’s not like you haven’t...like we haven’t—”

He stopped talking abruptly and whirled around. The next thing Armie knew, Tim’s robe was sliding down his thin frame and pooling at his feet. Armie _meant_ to turn away, he really did, but the sudden assault of _Timmy_ in all his glory, within the grasp of his twitching hands, froze him in place. His eyes skimmed down Tim’s back, to his narrow waist, over his hips, following the path the robe had taken. Tim glanced over his shoulder briefly, his cheeks pinkening when he realized Armie was watching him. Then he stepped over the robe, peeled the sheets back from the table, and slid onto it.

A second ticked by, and then another, as Armie couldn’t quite stop staring at Tim’s ass, on full display.

“Can...can you cover me?” Tim asked, as he fit his face into the cradle. He sounded a little breathless. Armie imagined that it was because his heart was beating a little too quickly because he _enjoyed_ having Armie watching him and not because he was nervous and a little uncomfortable with the idea.

“Right,” Armie said. “Of course.”

He sprang forward, his fingers fumbling to grip the edges of the sheets. All too soon, he had drawn them up to Tim’s neck, concealing him from view. Armie let out a breath of relief. Then, just because it was there and he could, he ran his fingers through Tim’s curls and smiled as Tim sighed and his shoulders relaxed under the sheets.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Janine’s voice came through. “Gentlemen, are you ready for me?”

“Yes,” Armie replied. He took a large step back from the table and scooped Tim’s robe off of the floor. He just barely resisted checking to see if it smelled like Timmy before tossing it onto one of the chairs.

Janine entered, a smile on her face. “Perfect. Doug, how is the temperature? Do you need me to turn the table warmer higher or lower?”

“It’s good,” Tim said, his voice muffled from where his face was pressed into the cradle.

“Great. Hal, step right over here.” She gestured to the side of the table opposite where she was standing.

Armie complied.

“When I first start a massage, I like to lay my hands on the client over the coverings, just to get them used to the feel of someone touching them. I start out with a light touch, and then press down more firmly.” She demonstrated by stroking her hands down Tim’s covered back and shoulders. Then she pressed more firmly with her palms at different points, in a slow, steady rhythm. She stepped back. “Now you try.”

Armie tentatively held his hands out over Tim. _It’s just a massage,_ Armie reminded himself. _People do this every day._ With a deep breath, he let his palms rest on Tim’s back.

He could feel the tension there. What was Tim so tense about? This? Or something else? In his concern, Armie forgot to be nervous about his role. He began to stroke his hands from Tim’s spine out to the sides of his ribs, up to his neck, down over the rise of his ass and his legs. He kept up this action until he could feel Tim relaxing into the table, and then he placed light pressure to Tim’s shoulder blades and lower back.

“Good job,” Janine said, her voice pitched low and gentle, as though to avoid disturbing them both. “Now that he’s used to your touch, take some of this. Rub your hands together to warm up the oil, and we’ll get down to business.”

Armie obediently held cupped hands out to receive two pumps of massage oil. He rubbed his palms together, feeling the oil warm. Janine took the top of the sheet and folded it down so that Tim’s entire back was exposed.

“Start with the heels of your hands here and here,” Janine said, pointing to spots in the middle of Tim’s back. “Stroke out to the sides, using whatever pressure your boyfriend is comfortable with. Doug, let us know if you want more or less pressure, okay?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Tim murmured. He already sounded a little drugged, and Armie smiled.

He followed Janine’s instructions listening as she softly directed him the correct way to follow the lines of Tim’s muscles along his back. As he kneaded and pushed, he could feel the muscles releasing further and further. Every so often, Tim would let out a tiny sigh, and each time that happened Armie would zero in on what had triggered it, attempting to make it happen again and again.

They worked their way down to his lower back, and then Janine rolled a small stool over to his side of the table.

“We’re going to work on his hands and arms now,” she said, deftly pulling the sheet back up to Tim’s neck and tucking it into his side, leaving only his arm exposed to the air. “Have a seat.”

At Janine’s urging, Armie took Tim’s hand in his. He felt it flex gently, and he squeezed back in reassurance. He pressed his thumbs into Tim’s palm, rolled Tim’s fingers between his. He stroked up Tim’s forearms, and then up to his shoulder and back down. The entire process repeated on the other side. When Armie couldn’t take it anymore, he brought Tim’s palm to his lips and kissed it softly.

Tim sighed, and so Armie did it again.

Next, they worked on Tim’s feet and legs. If Armie thought that putting his hands all over Tim’s back and arms was an exercise in restraint, this was another thing entirely, especially when Janine directed him to press his palms all the way up to Tim’s ass and knead it. Armie’s heart was pounding so loud he was sure that the people three rooms away could hear it. He couldn’t take his eyes away from where Tim’s cheeks pulled apart slightly with every squeeze.

If this were really his fantasy — and if Janine weren’t here — he would bend down and put his tongue to work. He could imagine doing it, imagine Tim squirming beneath him, his sighs turning into moans. He’d work his tongue into Tim’s center and back out, and when Tim was nice and needy he’d switch to his fingers. And then, when Tim was—

“Okay,” Janine said. “Great job. We’ll cover him back up, and then you can take a moment to soothe his muscles by running your hands over him gently, like you did at the very beginning. And then it will be your turn. How are you feeling, Doug?”

There was a silence. Had Tim fallen asleep?

“Sweetheart?” Armie said. He brushed his hands up to Tim’s neck, nestled his fingers in Tim’s curls. “You still with us?”

“S’good,” Tim slurred. “Thanks.”

Armie smiled. Apparently, he hadn’t been too shabby at this whole massage business.

“I’ll step out, grab him some water, and give you two a chance to switch places.” Janine moved towards the door. “Let him take his time getting up. He might be a little lightheaded,” she cautioned. And then she was gone.

The soothing music twinkled softly, but otherwise there was no sound in the room. Armie’s hand was still resting on the back of Tim’s neck, and he scratched his fingers up Tim’s scalp gently.

“Mmmmm.” The noise Tim made was practically a purr.

“That feel good?” Armie asked. He did it again, and Tim repeated the noise.

 _Step away,_ Armie scolded himself. _Let him get up._

He wasn’t sure what was different about this space that he was finding it so much harder to resist. Maybe it was the small, intimate nature of the room. The dim lights, the lack of windows. Knowing they were completely alone. Having just been allowed to touch his fill, only…

...he wanted _more_.

The fact that Tim hadn’t moved wasn’t helping Armie to refrain from taking more. Holding his breath, Armie continued to scratch at Tim’s scalp, then placed his other hand between Tim’s shoulder blades and skimmed it lightly down and then back up Tim’s spine.

He felt Tim arch slightly under his touch, and there was that sigh again.

Slowly, Armie trailed his fingers along Tim’s side, down over his hip, and then — so lightly it almost couldn’t be called a touch — up over his ass.

Tim shifted slightly, pressing _up_ into his hand.

Armie froze, his palm cupping Tim’s ass. Was Tim so out of it because of the massage, he didn’t know what he was doing? Or—

Tim relaxed back onto the table, away from Armie’s hand. He lifted his head and rolled onto his side. When he looked up at Armie, blinking at even the dim light, a sleepy smile spread across his face.

“You’re good at that,” he said.

“Yeah?” Armie’s hand had slid around to rest on Tim’s hip. He should remove it. But…

“Must be your giant hands,” Tim said. “They cover so much at once it makes me — I mean, I’m not going to be nearly as good, with my little—“

“How about you let me decide that?” Armie said. He squeezed Tim’s hip and then, with great difficulty, released him and stepped away.

Tim laughed lightly. He pushed himself into a sitting position, the sheets wrapped around his waist. His hands landed in his lap, and he cleared his throat. “I need to—can you grab my robe?”

Armie retrieved it from the chair and handed it to Tim, who slipped it on, making sure it was securely belted before he slid off the table and went to open the door.

Janine was standing there, a bright smile on her face and a cup of water in her hand.

“How are you feeling?” She handed Tim the water.

“Great,” he said. “Could I use the restroom before we continue?”

“Of course. Take a right at the end of the hallway, and it’s the first door on your left.” Tim exited, and she bustled about for a bit, changing out the sheets and the cradle protector. “You did well,” she said to Armie, snapping a sheet over the table.

“Thanks,” he said.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Three years,” Armie said. “But it feels like…” He trailed off, not sure what he was about to say.

“It feels like what?” she asked

“Are you married, Janine?” Armie leaned up against the wall, crossed one foot over the other.

“Yes,” she said. “For almost a year now.”

“When did you know? That you had found your person?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder and grinned. “The day we met,” she said. “It’s cliché maybe...love at first sight. But it wasn’t really that. Not _love_  but more...a sense that he was important.”

“Well, that’s what...that’s how I felt about him. When we met, I _knew_. Right away, I knew he was important. But more than that, I felt like he had always _been_ important, always been a part of me. I just hadn’t found the shape of him until that moment.” Armie gave a short laugh. “I swear sometimes I think back on my childhood memories and — even though this is impossible — he’s _in_ them. He’s there, laughing beside me, helping me when I was hurt, just...being there.”

Janine had stopped fiddling with the sheets and was watching him, a smile on her face. “That’s beautiful,” she said. Then she dusted off her hands on her pants. “I’ll step out and let you get comfortable.”

Once she had left, Armie let out a long breath. He hadn’t realized it until he was alone, but his nerves had started skittering, thinking he was going to have to disrobe in front of Timmy the same way Timmy had disrobed in front of him.

He settled face down on the massage table, resting his face in the cradle and smirking a bit at how his feet hung cleanly off the end. He was too big for everything, it seemed. As he pulled the sheets over himself, he indulged in a brief fantasy about what Tim would have done if he had been in the room. If he had been interested in Armie the way Armie was in him.

If he was interested, he wouldn’t turn away. He would look, and look long. Maybe Armie would let him, sensing Tim’s eyes on his back, lingering a moment before moving towards the table. When he laid down, he would stretch a little, wiggle his feet, laugh. Timmy would approach the table, grab onto his toes a moment before pulling the sheets up. Maybe he would hold the edges so that his knuckles could brush along Armie’s skin on the way up.

Armie shivered at the imagined touch.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Armie’s eyes flew open. “Hal, are you ready for us?”

“Yes,” he replied.

The door opened, and Janine and Tim reentered. He closed his eyes again.

He listened as Janine softly talked Tim through the massage the way she had done for Armie. He thought it might be difficult for him to have Tim’s hands on him, but he found it was the opposite.

From the moment he felt Tim’s slim fingers sliding along his body, he melted into the table. His breathing slowed and evened out, and he felt like he was floating. With each press of Tim’s palm, each glide along his skin, he spaced out further. No wonder Tim had sounded almost drunk. This was definitely intoxicating, more than any massage he had ever had.

At one point, he heard Tim’s intake of breath and a huffed laugh. It occurred to him that he might have been making noises, sighing the way Tim had, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He smiled when Tim’s lips brushed against his knuckles, remembering his own actions at that stage of the massage and pleased that Tim was echoing it.

When it came time for Tim to work his way up Armie’s legs, he came back to himself and began to tense a bit. He hadn’t felt Tim’s hands on his ass in _years_ , not like this. What if he—

And then Tim was kneading and pushing. Armie imagined what Tim would look like, standing above him, his hands groping, his fingers dancing close to that crevice...before Armie even knew it was happening so that he could stifle it, he let out a groan.

Tim’s hands stilled. “Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“No,” Armie said, his voice raw. “No, it’s good. It’s...keep going.”

He tried to take deep breaths without making it obvious. Tried to enjoy the massage without his mind going _other_ places. But it was too late. He felt himself stirring, his cock hardening beneath him. _Fuck._

 _Okay,_ he thought. _No big deal, they’ll give you a minute once this is over and you can...deal._

As soon as Tim stopped smoothing his hands all over his body, he would be fine. Totally and completely fine.

“And that’s it,” Janine said softly. “I’ll step out like I did for you. Let me know when you’re both ready.”

The door opened and closed. Tim continued to stroke up and down Armie’s back over the sheet, following the lines of his muscles, lingering at the dip of his lower back. Armie was torn between wanting it to continue forever and wanting it to stop before he embarrassed himself further.

The sheet was pulled back slightly, and he felt a slight tickle of hair on his shoulder. Then Tim’s lips pressed to the back of his neck for a long moment. Armie hummed involuntarily.

“Sorry,” Tim said, straightening up. “You just look so...relaxed. Finally. It’s cute.”

“Finally?” Armie asked. He lifted his head and rolled to his side, propping his head on his hand and careful to keep his knee slightly raised to hide the fact that he was still half-hard.

“Yeah. You were so tense when we arrived, and it seems like it’s been hard for you to really let go. Which is why I —“ Tim’s eyes darted down and to the left as he stopped mid-sentence.

“Why you what?” Armie asked. He reached out and snagged the sleeve of Tim’s robe, tugged once.

Tim smiled sheepishly. “This was actually my fault,” he said. “The massage lesson. I told them I wanted to help you relax. They suggested massage, and I said I wished I knew how to do it properly so we didn’t have to wait for appointments. So...that’s why we’re here.”

Armie stared at Tim. He had been sure the massage was because of something he had said in his interview. It was a sweet gesture, to want to provide the massage himself rather than merely gift a massage appointment. Clever. But there was something about the way Tim was blushing...

“Is that true?” he asked suddenly. It was a mistake to ask. He knew it, but he couldn’t help it. “Or was it just something you said because you were playing at being a doting boyfriend?”

Tim shuffled a foot on the ground, and when he spoke, it was a murmur.

“Don’t get mad at me, okay? But I think you...worry a lot. I know, because I do too. And sometimes I just wish there was a way I could help. I’m not always so good with the words thing so...yeah. If I thought it would help, and you’d let me, I’d be willing to try.”

When Armie didn’t immediately reply, Tim snuck a peek through his curls.

“You’re incredible,” Armie said. “To want to do that for me. Why in the world would I be mad?”

“Because, I don’t know, it’s a little creepy, maybe? For me to want to? That’s not like a normal thing. Like you would do with Nick or something.” Tim didn’t look away, and his eyes watched Armie closely.

“Timmy, we…” Armie considered his next words carefully. He didn’t want to reveal too much, but he couldn’t have Tim feeling self conscious, either. “Our friendship is not like the ones we have with other people. It’s...unique. We know that, we’ve always known that. I certainly wouldn’t be able to do what we’ve been doing here with just anyone. Not with _Nick_ , for Christ’s sake.” He laughed. “Do you know, I don’t talk to _anyone_ every day. Not even my kids. Not even Elizabeth, when we were apart for work, before. Just you.”

“Oh.” Tim’s mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Really?”

“ _Yes,_ really.” Armie sat up. “I think it’s awesome that we did this. Also because now...I can help you out when you’re feeling tense too. Now get me my robe. I’m starving. Let’s get lunch and then hit the beach.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Tim flipped his hair back from his face and grinned as he fetched the robe. “I think I read something about beach games. I bet we can take any of the other couples here.”

Armie tied his robe on, thanking whoever was listening for the fact that his body was now behaving.

“I know we can,” he said, hopping off the table. He held out his hand. “Let’s make them eat our dust.”

Tim slipped his hand in Armie’s. As they opened the door to continue with their day, Armie had one final thought.

It wasn’t exactly like his fantasy, or everything he wanted, but his reality with Tim — even off the island — was still better than anything he had imagined on those lonely days during his childhood long ago.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant. What had he gotten them into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick chapter for you. I’m exhausted after writing this. Have fun!
> 
> Oh, and as always, 100% fiction. Probably.

Everything was just a little too brilliant.

The early afternoon sun was blazing hot, its rays bouncing off of the white sands like lasers and sparkling on the waves like bits of glass by the time they arrived.

Lunch had been casual; after leaving the spa, they had decided to grab their beach things and head for the central resort area to check out the goings on over there instead of hanging at the quieter beach near their villa. There was a beachside cafe, all high tables and wooden stools, bright colors and blended drinks and fried foods, with a calypso band playing in the corner. Without discussing it, they both ordered frozen margaritas and a conch fritter/grilled shrimp salad, grinning at each other over the tops of their laminated menus.

After lunch — during which Tim declared soy butter sauce the second best thing he had ever had in his mouth and wouldn’t answer when Armie asked what the first best thing was — they headed for the ocean.

Stepping off of the wooden walkway and feeling the fine sand spill over the tops of his flip flops, Armie tipped his sunglasses up, wanting to see the busy central beach in vivid color. He could only stand the brightness for a few seconds before he gave in and retreated behind the shaded lenses again.

“Wow, it’s more crowded than I thought,” Tim said from beside him. “Should we find a spot, or…”

Armie looked around. “Let’s walk that way,” he suggested, pointing towards a stage set up to the east. “It looks like that’s the center of the action. You wanted beach games, right?”

“Only if you do,” Timmy said quickly. “If this is too crowded for you, we can always—“

“Tim, it’s fine,” Armie said. “Come on, we spent the whole morning hidden away, let’s rejoin the population of the world. Or at least of the island. Mix it up a little.”

_Give me a chance to resettle myself and get my fill of our public affection so I remember better to draw the lines again when we’re in private._

Armie had been thinking on the way to lunch, and while they munched on their salads, and he realized he was getting dangerously close to fucking everything up. It was one thing to enjoy the circumstances and another to take _advantage_ of them, which is basically what he had been doing all day. From that morning when he had kissed Tim in bed, to the touching in the sauna and the _other_ kiss in the lounge, to his fantasies during the massage lesson...he was taking advantage of his friend. And that was a surefire way to screw up their friendship. If Tim got an inkling that he wasn’t just playing, they were toast. It would make their closeness weird. Goodbye daily FaceTimes, goodbye constant texting, goodbye casual affection. He’d be lucky to see Tim twice a year, because the kid would run.

So. He just had to be clearer in his head. Role play vs. reality. He could enjoy the role play and let himself fantasize that it was real. But he had to live in reality when it was just them.

“Oh. Yeah, good idea.” Tim dug one foot into the sand. “Sorry. I know it’s probably boring for you to just be around me the whole time.”

Armie gave Tim a look. “Shut the fuck up,” he said, smacking his arm. “You know it’s not. Have I seemed bored? I just want you to have a memorable time. Experience all the resort had to offer.” He squinted at the stage. “And that, apparently, includes a limbo contest.”

Tim followed Armie’s gaze and grinned. “Do you want to—“

“Nope,” Armie said. When Tim frowned, he drew himself up to his full height. “Timmy, look at me. Exactly what about _this_ says ‘limbo champ’?”

Tim giggled. “Okay, fair enough. We’ll skip the limbo.”

“Come on, let’s check out what else is on the schedule.” Armie snagged Tim’s hand and started across the sand, tugging the kid after him.

After a few strides, Tim caught up and matched his pace...or tried to. He was breathing hard within a dozen steps and grabbed onto Armie’s bicep with his other hand. “Shit, Hammer, what’s your hurry? Not everyone has stilts for legs like you do.”

Armie changed the length of his stride, which slowed them down a beat or two. “You’ve got long legs,” he said, glancing down at the limbs in question. “You’re practically _all_ leg.”

“Not as long as yours. And we’re walking in sand, which is harder.” He peered up at Armie. “Did you just say I’m ‘all leg?’ What the hell does that mean?”

Armie didn’t know really, so instead of answering, he turned suddenly and scooped Tim up in a fireman’s hold. Tim yelped and kicked, but Armie grabbed his wrists with one hand and caught the other arm around the back of his knees. Once Tim was secure and stopped fighting, he started moving again.

“Armie, what the fuck?” Tim’s stomach muscles flexed against the back of Armie’s neck as he laughed.

“You complained about the pace so I thought I’d give you a ride,” he said, grinning. “Problem?”

“A little warning would have been nice.”

“Nah,” said Armie. “You’d overthink the offer. This way —“ They reached the edge of the crowd around the stage and Armie set Tim down beside him. “—we’re already here.”

Once Tim’s feet were on solid ground again, he shoved at Armie’s chest. “You can’t manhandle me, just because I’m smaller than you are. I have _rights_.”

Tim wasn’t really upset. He may have been pouting, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement and his cheeks were flushed, sure signs he was about to burst out laughing again and ruin the charade.

Armie decided to go with the flow and spread his arms wide. “I’m sorry, let’s make it even. I hereby give you permission to manhandle me back. Go ahead, throw me over your shoulder. Have at it.”

Tim gazed up at him, his lips parted slightly. Then, with a small smirk, he stepped close, so that their chests were almost touching. “You think I can’t?” he said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Hold still.” Tim stepped back and looked Armie up and down, as if gauging the right places to grab and how much force he would need to use. He took Armie’s hands and placed them on his shoulders, and then crouched slightly.

Armie readied himself. If Tim was actually going to try to lift him, he’d need to do something to help, because he didn’t want him to get hurt.

But Tim didn’t lift him.

Tim _climbed_ him.

Before Armie understood what was happening, Tim jumped up, wrapping his legs around Armie’s waist and his arm around Armie’s neck. Then he guided Armie’s hands lower to cup his ass, and leaned forward.

“Don’t drop me,” he whispered, and then he descended on Armie’s mouth.  

As far as kisses went, this one was white hot, like the sun beating down on them. There was no prelude, no preamble, no pre-anything. Armie’s mouth must have parted in surprise when Tim jumped on him, because Tim’s tongue slid inside as soon as their lips met.

Armie didn’t think he should be held responsible for the fact that he squeezed Tim’s ass extra tight. Or the fact that, as soon as Tim’s tongue met his, he pulled Tim’s hips tight against his waist, drawing a soft grunt from his kissing partner. He certainly shouldn’t be held responsible for the way he shifted his grip to cradle Tim in one palm, letting the other hand slide up Tim’s back and into the fine, soft hair at the back of his neck.

And he definitely wasn’t responsible for the “Holy fuck” that exploded from his lips the second they parted for air.

Tim immediately wiggled out of his grip and hopped to the ground. Armie found himself grabbing at the air as Tim nimbly avoided his hands. He realized what he was doing and stopped, straightening up and folding his arms across his chest to keep them in check.

“Tim,” Armie said, catching his breath. “What the hell was that?”

The look in Tim’s eyes told a story of mischief and challenge. “We’re even. You manhandle me in your way, I’ll manhandle you in mine. Come on, I think there’s a sign-up booth over there for the games.” He darted away through the crowd, leaving Armie gaping at him, half hard in his swim trunks and cursing silently.

 _The little shit,_ Armie thought, a helpless grin spreading across his face. _It’s like he_ knows _he’s driving me insane. It must be a natural talent._ He took off after Tim, fully intending on some payback.

But when he reached the sign-up booth, all thoughts of revenge fled, only to be replaced by a wave of soft, wispy fondness that was all too familiar. Tim was bent over the table, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth, completing paperwork. Every few seconds, a rogue curl would tumble down from where Tim had shoved it on top of his head, and he’d grab it and tuck it back where it belonged...only for it to escape again a moment later.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there staring before Tim said, “I’m putting us down for the obstacle course and the wacky relay. That okay?”

When Armie took too long to answer, Tim glanced up.  “There’s some other stuff, but I didn’t think you’d be interested in it. Oh, and there’s a sandcastle contest tomorrow. We sign up now if you want to do that.” Tim squinted at him. “You okay?”

Armie shook himself. “Yeah. Yes. Sounds good.”

“You gotta sign this waiver and we’re good to go.” Tim shoved a clipboard at him. “I already wrote down our info and everything.”

Armie took the clipboard, and signed his name at the red “X.” He looked up just as Tim grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He balled it in his hands.

“It’s gonna get hot,” Tim said, with a shrug. He grabbed the small bag from Armie’s shoulder and shoved the shirt inside. “You want to put yours in here, too? If that’s the obstacle course I see over there, it’s probably best to wear as little as possible.”

Tim gestured off to the side, where an elaborate track was set up. There was a cargo net climb and crawl, a scaling wall, a balance beam perched over a pit of water, and some track that went out into the ocean and back.

“Wow. That’s intense,” Armie said. “You sure you’re up for it?”

“You calling me weak?” Tim asked. He reached out and pinched Armie’s chest. “We have an advantage. We’ve _both_ trained, but I’m still light and easy to lift. And you’re fast for a giant.”

“I just meant it looks tough and not relaxing,” Armie said, swatting at Tim’s hand before the idiot could pinch him again. “But okay, I’m game. When does it start?”

Twenty minutes later, they had joined a line of other couples waiting for their turn on the course. As they watched the others struggle, they whispered strategy in each other’s ears.

 _You see how she got her foot really high up in the net when she jumped? That’s the way to do it...Keep your head down in the crawl, and keep your mouth closed so you don’t choke on sand...Pick a point at the end of the balance beam to focus on...I’ll get up the wall first and then pull you after me_...

At one point, Tim asked, “Are we taking this too seriously?”

Armie shrugged. “What’s the point in playing if you’re not going to try to win?”

When it was their turn, Armie turned to Tim and grinned. “You ready?”

Tim nodded. “Let’s win this, Hammer.”

When the horn sounded, they took off. The first section was a sprint across the sand. Armie struggled a bit, his feet sinking into the soft surface, but caught up with a few long strides, meeting Tim at the first check point. The cargo net climb was next. They paced their approach so that they didn’t hit the net at the same time and jolt each other off. This time, Armie’s height and his upper body strength got him to the top first. He rang the bell and then rolled down the other side, landing in a crouch. Tim landed next to him a few seconds later, and they took off for the crawl.

Armie almost wished he could have sat back and watched Tim’s progress on the crawl, because the glimpses he caught were distracting. Tim wiggled his way forward, his chest in the sand, his back arched, and his ass the highest point, the netting catching on the waistband of his trunks in a precarious way. _Stop looking and move_ , Armie scolded himself.

They got themselves up and over the wall as if they’d been doing it for ages. Armie ran and caught the top of the wall with both hands, ignoring the rope dangling to the side that was meant to help with the climb. He used his momentum to pull himself up and over in seconds. When he turned around, Tim was already leaping up to meet him. He caught Tim’s hands and hauled him to the top. They slid down the pole on the other side and dashed to the balance beam. Tim bent over, breathing hard, his hair falling into his face

“Doing okay?” Armie asked, breathless himself.

“Yeah. But you go first.” Tim waved his hand at the beam indicating a change in strategy.

Armie didn’t hesitate. He stepped onto the beam, took three steps, and lost his balance, plummeting into the muddy pit. His feet were too large, that was the problem.

Rather than swimming back to the beginning, he pushed himself back up onto the beam at the spot he had fallen — within the rules but difficult for most — taking a second to regain his footing. Then he started again. He could hear Tim cheering him on, and felt a warm determination bloom in his chest. He fell once more before reaching the other side, but made it.

Once there, he turned around and beckoned for Tim to follow. Tim was quick: he teetered once at the beginning, but then practically ran from one end to the other, his toes gripping and releasing the edge of the beam with dexterity Armie hadn’t realized he had.

When Tim hopped off the platform, Armie gave him a high five.

“Ready for the dive?” Tim asked.

Armie answered by dashing for the ocean.

The last obstacle required them to swim out along a track marked in the water to a buoy about fifty yards out. Then they had to dive down and untie two rings from a column, and swim them back. Most teams had chosen one of their participants to do the task, whichever was the stronger swimmer. Armie and Tim had decided to do it in tandem.

The swim out was easy, the current pulling them forward. They dove down together and untied the rings with no issues, and resurfaced within moments of each other.

Armie knew the swim back would be the challenge. He took the lead as discussed, knowing he was the stronger swimmer and hoping his larger mass would create a wake to make it easier for Tim. He had to resist looking over his shoulder to check on Tim’s progress, knowing that it could cost them time and momentum. He just had to trust that Tim was keeping up.

When he reached the shore, he staggered out of the water, finally risking a look back. Tim was right behind him, shaking his wet hair out of his face.

“Go,” he gasped.

Armie surged for the finish mat. Running on the wet sand near the shoreline was easier than running on the dry sand at the top of the beach. As he approached the mat, he slowed a bit and jogged the last few paces, giving Tim a chance to catch up. He grabbed for Tim’s hand, and they crossed the mat together, collapsing in a heap on the other side.

Armie struggled to catch his breath. Tim was sprawled next to him in the sand, one arm flung across Armie’s chest. Armie placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed. He became dimly award that the announcer was yelling through his microphone.

“And that’s the new time to beat, ladies and gentlemen! Who’s going to knock these two competitors out of first place? Will it be our next couple? Don’t forget, winners are treated to complimentary parasailing lessons...”

Tim rolled over so that he was now laying half on top of Armie, their faces close. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright.

“You hear that?” he asked between whistling breaths. “We’re in first place.”

“I heard,” Armie said. “We kicked ass. Come here.”

Maybe it was the endorphins and the exercise fog that controlled his next actions, which were unconscious and instinctive. He reached out a hand and grasped Tim’s chin between his fingers, pulling his face close.

Tim’s lips tasted of brine and were trembling with exertion and excitement. Armie had meant for it to be a quick kiss, but instead he moved his hand around to the back of Tim’s neck, gritty with sand, and held him in place for a more thorough exploration. After a moment, Tim pushed closer, their chests sliding together as he leveraged himself into a position of control. Armie found himself suddenly at Tim’s mercy, able to merely hang on as Tim plunged in and out of his mouth with abandon.

When they broke apart Tim flopped back into the sand beside him with a laugh and a breathless “fuck” that made Armie’s stomach flip. He cleared his throat.

“We better get out of the way, the next couple is probably half done by now,” he said. He rolled to his feet and extended a hand down to Tim, who caught it and pulled himself up.

As they moved back down the beach towards the start to claim their bag, they were intercepted by a woman wearing a bright smile and carrying a clipboard.

“Gentlemen,” she called. “I saw your run on the obstacle course. Brilliant.”

“Thanks,” Armie said.

“We’re lining up contestants for the next round of the newlywed game, and I think you two would be great. What do you think?”

“Oh, we’re not married,” Tim said quickly.

“Not a problem,” she said. “You don’t have to be, that’s just the name of the game. Like the old show? We pit five couples against each other. We ask you a series of questions, and compare your answers to your partner’s answers. The goal is to see which couple knows each other the best.”

Armie glanced at Tim, who was looking apprehensive. “What do you think?” he asked. “I’d say we know each other pretty well.”

“It’s got the best prize of all of the games,” she said. “A private yacht excursion.”

Now Tim looked interested. Armie made a note to look into booking one of those whether they won or not.

“I’d be up for it,” Armie said.

Tim nodded. “Okay, yeah. Could be fun.”

“Fantastic,” the woman exclaimed. She held out the clipboard. “Just write your names down there, and head over to the blue booth next to the stage to check in, in about a half hour. I’m Sarah, by the way.”

They dutifully scribbled their (fake) names down on Sarah’s paperwork. She pointed out the booth to them, and then moved off down the beach, no doubt looking for more victims.

“Well,” Armie said. “You up for a drink before we bare our deepest secrets to the entire beach?”

Tim’s eyes widened. “You think the questions will be that personal?”

“Don’t know. Have you ever even seen the Newlywed Game, oh youthful one?” Armie asked, eyeing Tim suspiciously.

“I’m not sure,” he said.

Armie rolled his eyes and then held out his hand. “Come on. I’ll give you some tips over a beer.”

Tim instantly slipped his hand inside Armie’s and they headed in the direction of one of the beach bars.

As they walked, Armie talked Tim through the strategy of answering questions about himself as honestly as possible, and answering questions about Armie the way he thought Armie would answer them.

His mind wandered back to what Tim had asked: would the questions be truly personal, or would they be more casual? Was he going to be talking about his favorite flavor of ice cream, or his deepest fears? And... _oh shit,_ Armie thought, _what if they ask about sexual preferences?_

Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant. What had he gotten them into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Please don’t scrutinize the direction of the tides too closely. I made it work for the story but it’s pretty much completely inaccurate. I didn’t think you’d mind. If you need an explanation, an oceanographer friend of mine said “currents and weird eddies can do unexpected things.”)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Newlywed Game, and...everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said to someone earlier this evening, I am my own worst enemy.
> 
> Why? Because I'm not supposed to post this tonight. I'm supposed to post it on Friday. I don't know if I'll physically have time to write another chapter by Friday. But honestly, this fic flows so fast for me that I'm willing to give it a try. For you. So you don't have to wait.
> 
> This might be a little on the hokey side but I've decided that's okay in this story. Let's leave reality for one of my other pieces and live in this little fantasy vacation together.
> 
> 100% fiction, probably.

Armie was a master at second guessing his decisions. On the one hand, he tried to put out a “no regrets” persona, one that accepted what life threw at him and let himself enjoy the ride, bumps and all. On the other hand, a childhood of being criticized for not being _enough_ — well behaved enough, smart enough, focused enough — and a marriage of much the same had cultivated a secret, shameful side that questioned everything he did, said, or thought.

So it was no surprise that, as the resort staff directed them into position on the beach stage, he was questioning everything: his decision to come on this trip, his enthusiasm to pretend to be Tim’s boyfriend, his ability to survive going back to friendship once it was over...and his stupid quick agreement to participate in this game, which could go in a dangerous direction quickly.

Tim seemed to be having no such problem.

“Okay, so...is there anything else we should agree on before we start?” Tim whispered urgently, bouncing in his chair. “Like, I don’t know...how many kids we want or something?”

They had spent their time over beers pinning down some details of their “relationship,” agreeing to stick as close to the truth as possible in order to not fuck everything up.

Now, Armie hesitated. “I guess if we’ve been together this long we’ve probably talked about that,” he said, after a moment.

“So...how many kids do you want, Armie?” Tim asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“I don’t know. Two is nice,” Armie said, distracted momentarily by the shape of Tim’s lips as they curved upwards slowly.

Tim’s smile faltered. “Oh. You already have two,” he said. “Does that mean you wouldn’t want more kids? If you...I mean, if you met someone else and got married again?”

“I guess it would depend on the person,” Armie said. “I mean, I don’t need to have more kids necessarily, so if the person I was with didn’t want kids I’d be okay with that. But if they did, then...yeah. I’d have more kids. And if...I guess if I was really in love I would want to have a family of our own with that person anyway.”

_If it was you, for example,_ Armie thought, _I’d want more, no question._

Tim’s gaze had dropped to his hands.

“What about you?” Armie asked him. “You want a small army of tiny Chalamets running around?”

“I wouldn’t mind a couple of kids,” Tim said. He raised his eyes to Armie’s, and was grinning again. “It might be nice to have a girl and a boy, like in my family. Or like you have.”

The thought of a tiny little girl or a boy with Timmy’s delicate features and curls nearly undid Armie right there in front of the milling beach audience. He could see it so clearly all of a sudden — spending time with Timmy and all the kids. He saw a picnic lunch, a playground. He imagined Harper and Ford, who would be older, helping the little ones go down the big slide and pushing them on the swings. He could practically feel Timmy leaning against him, resting his head on Armie’s shoulder as they watched the brood, ready to break up fights or kiss skinned elbows, but mainly just enjoying their family.

“Armie?” Tim laid a hand on Armie’s knee, patted it once. “You okay?”

Armie blinked back to the present, the visions he had been lost in burning away under the bright Caribbean sun. The playground faded into the sandy beach, the squeals of children transformed into adult laughter, and the smells of fresh cut grass were overtaken by the scents of sunscreen and salt water. He felt a pang of loss slide into his gut, and took a breath, trying to shake it off.

_Get it together, Hammer,_ he thought. _You can’t lose what was never in the realm of possibility for you to have._

He focused on Tim, who was looking concerned, his brows drawn together and a small frown puckering his lips. Armie scrubbed his hands over his face, and when he looked back up, he was able to smile.

“I’m fine,” he said.

Tim didn’t move his hand. “Where did you go?” he asked. “You really took a trip there for a minute.”

“Nowhere,” Armie said. “Just...zoned out a second. Must be the sun.”

Now Tim looked even more concerned. “You don’t look burned or overheated,” he said. “Do you need water? I can—“

“Tim, I’m fine. Seriously.” Armie placed his hand on Timmy’s and squeezed. He noticed the staff conferring on the side of the stage, and then one broke from the huddle and crossed to the center of the stage, holding a microphone. “Looks like we’re about to get started.”

“I want to win,” Tim said, setting his jaw. Armie’s smile widened at Tim’s competitive nature that had been surfacing all afternoon. It was so...cute. He was like a honey badger...fuzzy and adorable but with sharp claws and fierce when provoked.

They had gotten knocked out of first place in the obstacle course by a pair of Olympic swimmers and had ended up in second. Tim was annoyed — _seems unfair that they let professional athletes compete with regular people_ — but agreed that the second place prize, drink and food vouchers and a complimentary portrait session, was probably better for them than parasailing lessons. Armie was worried he would be too big and Tim...well, his fear of heights might be unconquerable.

But since they hadn’t won the obstacle course, Timmy had decided they were winning this newlywed game. Armie wasn’t so sure.

“We’ll try,” he said. “But you do realize that actual couples have a better shot.”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. Some couples barely know each other. But _we_ …” he waved a hand between them, “...we have _history_.”

“If you say so,” Armie said.

Truth was, he was concerned about the game itself. Should he demonstrate how well he knew Tim, and maybe have a shot at winning? Or would it freak Tim out to know just how much Armie paid attention to every word he had said for three years, every nuance of his mood, every flicker of expression?

He didn’t know what he was going to do. But Tim did seem hell bent on winning, and he wanted Tim to be happy.

The staffer at the center of the stage began to speak, and slowly, the audience quieted.

“Good afternoon, Isla Deseo beachers!” She was tall and blonde, wearing blue shorts and a white t-shirt emblazoned with the resort logo. She waved a hand high over her head. “Have you been having fun at the games today?” A small cheer went up. “That’s it? Only that much fun?” A larger cheer. “That’s more like it. Welcome to the Newlywed Game! My name is Sarah, and I’ll be your host. I’ve got Todd, Holly, and Becky helping me out today.”

The crowd clapped politely.

“We have three adorable couples up here on the stage. Couples I picked personally because, from all outward appearances, they are totally made for each other. Soulmates. The question is...how well do they _really_ know each other?”

Armie watched as she egged on the crowd, uncertainty continuing to stir in his gut. He and Tim had done a great job acting the part, it seemed. But could they pull this off too?

“Here’s how this works. During each round, I will ask the couples a series of questions. The couples will individually write down answers on their boards. Then we’ll reveal the answers and see whether they match. Simple, right? But before we get started, let me introduce you to our couples.”

She turned and gestured to the six people on the stage behind her.

“First, we have James and Carrie, who just got engaged.” She pointed to the couple on Armie’s right, who waved to the crowd and were greeted with cheers.

One of the other staffers — Holly or Becky — picked up the chatter. “James is an executive chef and Carrie is a fifth grade teacher. They are visiting from Chicago, Illinois.”

“Next up is Hal and Doug, who have been together for three years.”

Another staffer, whose nametag said “Todd,” announced their made-up information. “Hal is a venture capitalist and Doug is a graphic designer. They hail from New York City!”

Tim shot him a smirk. They had had a small argument about that, Armie saying they could pick anywhere and Tim insisting that even fake him was from New York. He had won in the end, mainly because...Armie couldn’t say no.

Meanwhile, the crowd cheered politely.

“Finally, we have Georgia and Steve, who are on their honeymoon!”

The third additional staffer announced that Georgia was a lawyer and Steve was a nurse, and that they lived in Miami, and the game began.

The first round was easy, with light, simple questions. They asked what their favorite types of pizza were, their favorite colors, and their birthdays. The couples matched all answers across the board.

“Okay,” said Sarah. “Everyone did really well in this round. But it was sort of an easy round. I mean, these are the kinds of things you can learn about someone on a first date, or even if you just work with someone. So let’s make it a little harder.”

The crowd was in favor of harder, especially since the waitstaff had just come around with boozy slushies for everyone, including the contestants. Armie slurped on his cherry-rum slushie and grinned when Tim got blue dye from his raspberry-rum slushie all over his upper lip.

The second round was indeed harder, but still fairly surface level. At least, Armie thought so. It wasn’t difficult for him to answer questions about Tim’s family, his childhood pet, his favorite high school teacher. Tim answered about him easily as well.

The other couples each missed one from this round, but it was still a close competition.

The third round, things got more personal, focusing on things about their relationships.

“Our first question in this round,” Sarah said, “is this: what was the first thing you noticed about your partner?”

Armie knew what Tim was going to write about him, because he had admitted it, in public, during interview after interview. _My height and size_ , Armie wrote on the “Tim” section of the board. But for his own answer about Tim, he hesitated. It was a tough question because, honestly, he wasn’t sure he remembered what the first thing he noticed was. He had barged into Tim’s piano lesson, interrupted his playing, and Tim had — Armie smiled, and wrote down his answer. He wasn’t sure if Tim would get it, but it was the truth.

When it was time to reveal, Tim grinned at him when he saw that their answers on what Tim had noticed about Armie matched. Then Tim flipped the other side of his board, and he had written, _the way all my thoughts are always all over my face_. Armie flipped his board with a grin of his own.

“Wow, that’s a specific answer,” Todd said. “Is there a story there?”

Armie glanced at Tim, who looked suddenly worried. “There is, but I’m not going to tell it to you,” Armie said. He looked out over the crowd. “I’ll tell them later, in private.” The crowd laughed, and the game moved on.

The second question in that round was about their first date. Armie took a shot in the dark, and said they rode bicycles to get ice cream. Tim wrote the same thing, and blushed when they matched. The third question was about their anniversary, and as agreed, they wrote down the day they met in Crema.

As the third round ended, they had eighteen points. The engaged couple had sixteen, and the newlyweds had fifteen.

“We have one final round to play,” said Sarah. “This is anybody’s game to take! But let's see what you guys think. So far, who do you think is going to win? Is it James and Carrie?” The audience cheered. “What about Georgia and Steve?” A less enthusiastic cheer. “And Doug and Hal?” A louder cheer.

Well, look at that, Armie thought. The people liked them. He flashed a blinding smile, and beside him, Tim was beaming. On impulse, he reached over and snagged Tim’s t-shirt, tugging him close. Tim was already closing his eyes as Armie took his mouth in a sweet, chaste kiss. When their mouths parted, Armie let his forehead rest against Tim’s for a moment. He could hear the crowd cheering louder.

Tim opened his eyes. “Thanks,” he said.

“For what?” Armie asked.

“For noticing me,” Tim said. Then he pulled away and waved at the crowd.

_For noticing me._ Tim was infuriating sometimes, in the way he thought so little of himself. It drove Armie crazy on a regular basis to know that he was so insecure about the effect he had on people, and about how much people liked and appreciated him. He shook his head, knowing that, for as long as Tim let him, Armie would be the one to constantly remind him of his worth.

“Now for the final round,” Sara said. “Where we take things to a...deeper level. This one is a little different. Only two questions, but they are worth triple the points. Which means that teams could score twelve points in this round alone. Are we all ready to get a little intimate? See which couple are really and truly soulmates? Our first question: what is your favorite little thing that your partner does for you? What is that thing they always do that makes you happy.”

_Shit_. Armie had no idea how to answer this question, for himself or for Tim. He thought for a bit, and finally just decided to be honest, and wrote _He always knows when something is bothering me and won’t stop asking about it until I share it with him. It helps._ For Tim, thinking about that morning, he wrote, _I make him breakfast_.

He was thrilled when Tim had also written _he makes me breakfast_. But he was shocked when Tim wrote _This is super personal but I think I’m good at making him talk about things that are bothering him even when he doesn’t want to, and it makes him happier._

Armie stared at Tim, who was looking fairly serious himself. Sarah was cooing over that answer, egging on the _awwwww_ from the crowd. Then Tim smiled, a tiny little smile that drifted contentment across his entire face, and Armie felt his features relax in response.

“It does. Make me happier,” Armie said, in a low voice. “Thanks.”

This time, Tim grabbed _him_ for a kiss, but it was a little less gentle, and a little more possessive. The audience loved it.

“Second and final question,” said Sarah, “what does your partner love most about you?”

Still riding on the shock of having gotten both parts of the last question right, Armie didn’t spend too long thinking about the second question, going with his instincts. His mind immediately went to their earlier conversation and his thoughts about Tim’s confidence. He wrote quickly.

At the reveal, he gaped at Tim’s answer for him: _I love that I can be completely open with him and he never judges me._ He had written _He likes the honesty between us_. Armie didn’t think they meant exactly the same thing. They got the points anyway.

For Tim, he had written _He’s going to say that he doesn’t know what I love about him_. Sure enough, Tim had written _I honestly don’t know why he loves me._

“That’s amazing,” Todd said. “You do know each other well. Is there a real answer, though? You’ve earned the points, but do you want to tell him, right here, what you love most about him?”

Armie froze. He didn’t have a safe answer for this. What was he supposed to say? What would make sense and not sound too...real...to Tim? Todd was looking at him, holding the microphone out. Tim was looking at him. Everyone was looking at him.

Finally, he shrugged. _Fuck it._  Honesty, then.

“Everything,” he said. “I can’t tell you what I love _most_ because it changes every second. Right now…” he looked over at Tim and smiled fondly. “...it’s the little wrinkle between his eyes, as he’s trying to work out what I’m saying. And now it’s the way his bottom lip sticks out because he thinks I’m full of shit. An hour from now it’ll be the way he laughs at my sarcasm. Tonight maybe it’ll be some ridiculously insightful observation he makes about a television show. So…”

“Everything,” said Todd.

“Yeah. Everything.” Armie ducked his head, knowing that he was blushing.

He became dimly aware that the audience was chanting something. What was it? It sounded like...oh.

The audience wanted them to kiss again.

Suddenly, Armie found himself with an armful of Tim. His partner had crawled across the seats and into his lap.

To the sound of increased cheering, and Sarah announcing that they had won — _hey, we won_ , Armie thought — Tim took Armie’s face in his hands and kissed him. This was not like the other kisses. There was nothing chaste about it. Armie opened for Tim immediately, letting Tim drive the kiss, his tongue sliding inside with a gentle pressure that spoke of leisurely mornings and the promise of infinite time. There was no need for intensity, no need to hurry, it said. They had an entire lifetime to do this, to taste each other, to connect in exactly this way.

The restraint and sweetness of it shook Armie to his core. He could feel every muscle in his body trembling as Tim’s thumbs stroked over his cheeks, as Tim’s nose nudged at his, as Tim’s hips fit themselves to his hands like they had been molded together, a renaissance sculpture come to life.

All he could do was receive the onslaught of tenderness. All he could do was return it as best he could.

So he flattened his palms and slid them up Tim’s sides, around his chest, to rest on his shoulders. Using a whisper-soft touch, he ran his fingers along Tim’s collarbone, to his neck, and up into his hair. Tim sighed into his mouth, and Armie shut his eyes tight, as if to better hold in all of the emotions that were threatening to burst out of him at the sensation.

Tim’s tongue finally retreated, his lips pressed against Armie’s one final time, and then he pulled back. He had a look on his face that would have brought Armie to his knees if he hadn’t already metaphorically landed there. It was soft, and slightly dazed and far away. Armie stared. All the noise around them, the crowds, the beach, the game...it all fell away. Armie felt as though they were in a small, private bubble, on where nearly anything could happen if only you wished for it hard enough.

“Tim?” he whispered.

Tim’s face cleared then, his eyes focused, and he smiled. “Holy _shit_ ,” he said, effectively breaking the spell. “We just fucking _won_.” Then he smacked Armie in the chest.

Armie let out a laugh, and then he couldn’t stop laughing. He laughed as Todd pulled them to their feet. He laughed as Sarah awarded them with a green plastic trophy that had the resort name on it in gold letters. He laughed as Tim accepted the certificate for the private yacht excursion, and laughed even harder as Tim tripped on their way off the stage, resulting in Armie grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him upright.

They decided then that they had been out on the beach long enough, and that it was time to head back to the villa to shower, rest, and change for dinner. As they walked hand in hand, choosing to stroll along the beach instead of up on the pathways, he realized something.

There were plenty of things Armie second guessed about his life and his choices. But whatever they had been, they had brought Tim into his life. They had brought him to today, had made this entire weekend possible.

Thinking about it that way, it was impossible to regret anything.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a second, the world hadn’t made sense, and the crash back to reality was overwhelming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little evil...I'll understand if you need to yell at me.
> 
> ;)
> 
> 100% fiction, probably.

Armie was fairly certain there was no sound in the world better than Timmy’s voice when he was happy. It was rich and full and musical, dancing up and down the tonal scale on pace with his enthusiasm. He kept up a steady chatter all the way back to the villa, and Armie couldn’t keep his heart from filling to overflowing. 

Once inside, Armie told Tim to take the first shower, while he called the concierge to set up their yacht excursion and make dinner reservations. Tim agreed, kicking off his flip flops and bouncing towards the bathroom. He stopped in the doorway and leaned back out. 

“Hey...want to join me?” Tim asked. 

Armie’s brows shot up and his pulse took off. His mouth was suddenly full of the bitter taste of adrenaline and he was pretty sure any color he had gained in the sun that afternoon had evaporated, because his cheeks and neck were suddenly cold 

_That wasn’t — he couldn’t mean — he didn’t really —_

“Kidding! I’m kidding,” Tim let out a gaspy laugh, clutching his stomach. “Holy shit, your _face._ I’m kidding. It’s probably what the most compatible couple at the resort would do, right? Shower together?”

Armie couldn’t feel his legs, but he hoped they would hold him up for another minute.

“Right.” He choked out a laugh that sounded more like a wheeze. “Good one.”

Still giggling, Tim disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. 

Armie staggered over to the sofa and collapsed onto it, letting his head fall back against the wall with a painful _thud_. For a second, the world hadn’t made sense, and the crash back to reality was overwhelming. 

He knew what the problem was. He was letting himself get carried away again. The morning with the massage, the afternoon on the beach, the ridiculous game show, and the performance they put on for the crowd had messed with his head, blurring reality and fantasy. Under normal circumstances he would have known Tim was joking immediately. But for a split second, he had thought _maybe_ —

With a sigh, he looked down at his crotch, where his cock was standing up to declare its feeling about the idea of a shower with Timmy. Slippery, soapy, squealing…

He pressed a palm against himself with a groan, and took a few deep breaths. He could take care of this when it was his turn to shower. But in the meantime, he had some calls to make. 

The call to the concierge was quick. The man was more than happy to indulge Armie’s request to book extra time for the yacht excursion. Tim’s excitement over the prospect of spending the afternoon on the water had convinced Armie to make the most of it.

Once that was taken care of and dinner reservations were made, Armie stared at the bed, feeling suddenly exhausted. He shouldn’t have been surprised, the day’s activities had been fun but draining. Since the bed was so inviting and the shower was still running, Armie decided to indulge himself and peeled back the covers, climbing underneath with a sigh. 

He’d just close his eyes for a minute, and get up when he heard the shower turn off. 

When Armie returned to consciousness, he drew in a breath and got a lungful of the scent of Tim’s freshly washed hair. He blinked his eyes open and sensations assaulted him one by one: damp hair plastered to his chin, a long length of warm spine pressed against his chest, a small ass fit perfectly against his pelvis...Timmy’s stomach, rising and falling under his palm. 

At some point while he was napping, Timmy must have finished his shower, found him in bed, and joined him. And Armie had apparently automatically spooned him without any resistance, holding him snugly. 

He let out a cautious breath and then drew in another. _Dear god,_ it was nice here, wrapped around Timmy like this. And Tim seemed to like it too, because he let out a little sigh and wriggled backward, pressing even closer. 

“You awake?” Tim murmured. 

“Kind of,” Armie said. “I should get up. Shower.”

“You haven’t been out long,” Tim said. He twisted his head around, so he could see Armie. “I just got here. You looked so comfortable I didn’t want to wake you.”

Armie began to pull his hand away, but Tim grabbed it. “Stay a minute,” he said. “A nap is a good idea. We’re not in a rush, are we?”

“Not really,” Armie said, thinking. “We have an hour and a half before our reservations.”

“Then...let’s nap,” Tim said. He turned back around and settled against Armie’s chest once more. “You probably need it. You’ve had a big day for a man of your age.”

Armie smacked Tim’s stomach. “No age jokes allowed,” he grumbled. “I kicked ass on that obstacle course and you know it.”

Tim giggled. Armie amended his earlier assessment: Tim’s laughter, not just his voice, was the best sound in the world.

“Yes, you did a good job, baby,” Tim snickered. “You should be proud of yourself. You’re in much better shape than most people with the years on them that you have.”

Armie rolled his eyes, even though Tim couldn’t see it. 

“Tim, if you don't want to be tickled until you piss yourself —“

“Shhh, nap now,” Tim said. He patted Armie’s hand on his stomach, and wriggled backward once more. 

Armie closed his eyes. All of Tim’s wiggling around had woken him up further, but the warmth of the blankets and of Tim, and the sensation of being cuddled up like this, was enough to soon persuade his body to relinquish its hold on alertness. He felt himself drifting, surrounded by a vague sense of contentment. 

The next time he opened his eyes, there was a different quality to the light streaming in the windows. Armie lifted his head from where it had been buried in Tim’s neck and squinted at the clock on the bedside table. 

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, suddenly awake. They had slept right through their reservation, missing it by an hour. 

“What’s the matter?” Tim’s voice was thick with sleep. 

“We slept too long,” Armie said. He rubbed Tim’s stomach, where his hand still lay. “Why’d you let us sleep so long?”

Tim just grunted in response. Then he flipped around in Armie’s embrace, flung an arm over his waist, and burrowed into his chest. 

“I need to get up,” Armie said, but he couldn’t help the giddy smile that settled on his face. “We need to get moving.”

“Do we have to?” Tim asked, his voice muffled. “Can’t we just stay here tonight?”

“You want to skip dinner?” Armie asked, skeptical. Sure enough, both his and Tim’s stomachs let out a growl. 

“Room service,” Tim said. “And we can watch stupid movies. Maybe go in the pool again. We have that scotch from last night still.”

Armie hesitated. Going out meant being in public. Staying in meant having to keep from forgetting himself. Still…

“You make a convincing argument,” he conceded. 

Tim made a happy noise against his chest. Because he couldn’t help it, Armie pulled him closer and ran his fingers in a circle around Tim’s shoulder blades. 

“But I do need to get up and at least shower,” Armie said reluctantly, taking stock of the stiffness of his skin and scalp. “I feel...salty.”

Armie froze when he felt a soft, warm, _wet_ thing slide against his collarbone. 

“Yep, salty,” Tim said. 

Tim had _licked_ him. 

“Huh,” Tim murmured thoughtfully. 

“What?” Armie asked. He was surprised he had managed to speak at all.

“Nothing, just...you know how you’re not thinking about something and then you smell something or taste something and _boom_ it’s right there?”

“Sense memory,” Armie said. 

“Right. So...you taste the same. As before. In Crema.” As if to prove it to himself, he took another little lick. “The same.”

In Crema. Crema, where they were allowed to touch in a way that had sparked something long dormant inside Armie. Where everything had changed, become brighter, more colorful, richer. Where he had fallen in love and never recovered.

“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know I had a...taste.”

But of course he did. _Timmy_ had a taste, and Armie remembered it well. He just had never considered _Timmy_ would have thought about his at all, or remembered it.

He cleared his throat. “Well, the point is, I should get up and shower off the salt. And call for food.”

Tim pulled away. “I can call,” he said. “You shower.”

“Are you sure?” Armie asked.

“I think I can handle calling for room service,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. He pinched Armie’s back, and then moved away and off the bed. 

“You don’t know what I want,” Armie said, shifting onto his back and stretching.

“I do.” Tim smirked. 

“ _I_ don’t know what I want,” Armie countered. 

“Yeah but I do,” Tim insisted. 

“What do I want?” Armie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We know each other, remember? I bet you I can order exactly what you’re in the mood for.”

Armie laughed. “Okay, you’re on.” He pushed himself to his feet, stretched again. “Shit, I needed that nap, I think. I feel so...”

Timmy’s face softened. “Me too.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Armie scratched his stomach self-consciously. Tim was looking at him, and he felt something — energy? — shifting in the space between them. Like on the beach earlier, after their kiss, he thought, _just for a second_ , that maybe—  

Tim picked up a pillow and threw it at Armie’s head. He caught it easily, and when he threw it back, things were back to normal. He shook off the odd sensation. _Getting carried away again,_ he thought. _That’s all_.

“Go take your fucking shower,” Tim said, pointing toward the bathroom.

When Armie emerged twenty minutes later, clad in pajama pants and a t-shirt and feeling more settled and tethered to reality, he found Tim unpacking a basket of food. He sniffed the air.

“Italian?” he asked, identifying rich tomato and beef smells wafting across the room.

Tim glanced up and grinned. “I got us pizza,” he said. “Extra extra cheese. All the meats on your half. Did I get it right?”

Armie’s stomach growled loudly. It was indeed exactly what he wanted, though he hadn’t known it until this second. “Perfect,” he said.

Tim had also ordered caesar salad, loaded garlic bread — “Isn’t this just another form of pizza?” Armie had asked, getting a swat on the arm in response — and tiramisu for dessert. They ate cross legged on the bed, piles of napkins at hand to deal with the grease, while watching the second half of _The Dark Knight_.

As the movie was ending and Tim was groaning that he shouldn’t have had that fourth slice of pizza because now he didn’t have room for dessert, there was a knock at the door. Armie grabbed the uneaten tiramisu and slid it into the refrigerator on his way to answer it.

A resort staff member stood on the other side, holding a box that was about the size of a shoebox, in the same blue color as appeared in the resort logo and the staff shirts.

“Good evening, sir,” he said. “We have a delivery for you and your partner.”

Armie took the box when offered. “Thank you,” he said.

“You have a great night,” said the staffer. With a nod of his head, he turned, leaving Armie looking curiously at the box. 

He retreated back into the villa, turning it over in his hands. Tim was pouring himself another glass of scotch, and held up the bottle. “You want?” he asked.

“Of course,” Armie said. 

“What’s that?” Tim asked, gesturing at the box with the bottle. The amber liquid sloshed dangerously up its neck.

“Careful with that,” Armie warned. “I don’t know. Another gift from the resort. Like the scotch or...the massage, I guess.” He narrowed his eyes at it, then brought it up to his ear and shook it. Something slid around inside, but it sounded like it was made of soft material, rather than hard. 

Tim sank onto the sofa, holding both glasses of scotch. He held one out to Armie. “Here. Sit down, let’s open it. See what kind of wish they’re granting us now. The others have been good, so...”

Armie took his glass and sat beside Timmy. He set the box on the table. “You open it,” he said, nudging it toward Tim.

Tim downed half his drink and then set his glass down. He undid the tie around the box and then lifted the lid to reveal a layer of tissue paper. When he folded back the tissue paper, his hands stilled. His breathing sped up, and his mouth fell open.

“What’s the matter?” Armie asked, leaning over to see inside.

“Nothing,” Tim said, sliding the box away from Armie.

Armie blinked at him, surprised. “What the fuck? Let me see.”

“No. I…” Tim grabbed the box and jumped up, sidling out of the way when Armie reached for him. “It’s not really...I mean, it’s not anything.”

Armie frowned and pushed to his feet. Tim took several steps backwards. “Timmy, I’m not going to... will you just show me what’s in the fucking box? Or tell me what’s wrong?”

Tim bit his lower lip, working it between his teeth furiously. He had flushed bright red, and was clutching the box to his chest. Armie couldn’t even imagine what could be causing this reaction.

“You’re kind of scaring me, Tim,” he said, keeping his voice low and gentle, not moving from his spot by the sofa. “If you don’t want to show me, then...don’t. Take it outside, throw it in the trash. I won’t go look for it. I promise.”

Armie was dying to know what was in the box, but he was more interested in having Tim not look like he was about to bolt.

They stood like that for a full minute, Armie listening to Tim’s breathing as it slowed to a normal level, watching Tim turn an even brighter red as he stared at the floor and clearly tried to talk himself into or out of his next move.

Finally, he looked up. His eyes were bright and pleading. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll show you. But you have to...promise me you’re not going to laugh or give me a hard time about this.”

“I promise,” Armie said.

Tim straightened up, squared his shoulders, and held out the box. Armie took it, keeping his eyes on Tim. Then he folded back the tissue paper, looked down, and —

_Oh, fuck._

Nestled in the tissue paper was a very fine-looking set of green silk _ropes_.

Armie licked his lips, his mind immediately taking him to a place he should not go if he wanted to keep his sanity. There were ropes. Honest to god ropes, like the ones he preferred to use when he was playing with a partner. Which he hadn’t done in ages, since Elizabeth hadn’t really been into it, but—

He ran a finger over a short length, pinched it between his fingers. Then he looked up. Tim was watching him, looking like he wanted to hide under the bed.

“Tim?” he asked. “Why is the resort giving us these?”

“Look,” Tim said. “When they were asking me all these questions about what I would like to do for you or what I wished for you at first I thought they meant, like, _sexually._ I sort of panicked. I kind of remember rambling about shit you like, and for some reason I think I may have said something about you liking this but that we’d never done it together and I wanted you to know you _could_ and I’d try it... _fuck_.” Tim sank onto the floor, buried his face in his hands. “I don’t even know why I said all that.”

Armie took the ropes out of the box, weighed them in a palm, and set the box down. He wanted to comfort Tim. To tell him it wasn’t a big deal. That there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Laugh about the entire thing. And yet, there was something about Tim’s reaction…

“Hey,” Armie said, “it’s fine. It’s funny, even. But you seem like you’re...why are you so embarrassed? I mean, it’s more about me, right? And you know I don’t give a fuck if people know I like this shit. So if you’re worried about that or think I’d be mad—“

“No, I know,” Tim said. He pushed himself to his feet. “You’re right. I don’t know why I acted like that. I guess I just...was embarrassed I had said it in the first place.”

“Okay then,” Armie said. “Should we see what else is on television, or do you want to take a dip in the pool?”

“Pool,” Tim said. “Let’s revisit that view.”

They changed into dry swim trunks, refilled their scotch glasses, and settled into the plunge pool. Like the night before, the peace of the beach at night and the rolling waves were calming. Tim settled comfortably against Armie’s side and, after sitting in silence for a time, they began to talk. 

Armie was constantly amazed that, with all the talking they did — between FaceTime calls and texts and visits — they still never seemed to run out of things to talk about. 

Their conversation meandered, hitting on topics for varied lengths of time. Tim mentioned that he wanted to see the rest of the Wonders of the World, which launched them into a brief argument about what the Wonders of the World were that Tim thought he had seen already. That led to a discussion about the purpose of travel, and whether travel should be made more accessible to more people so that more people could be exposed to ideas the customs beyond their own hometown. They spent a while talking about Armie’s kids, and how to make sure they grew up with the ethics and morals Armie wanted them to have but could also think for themselves. Tim muttered that Harper probably knew whether Stonehenge was one of the Wonders of the World, and Armie pulled his hair with a laugh, growling “it’s not, I promise you” in Tim’s ear. 

“Are you having a good time?” Tim asked suddenly. 

“Of course I am,” Armie said. “What makes you even ask that?”

Tim shrugged. “Just making sure. If you have fun, maybe we can go somewhere else sometime.”

“Sure. To Macchu Picchu maybe,” Armie said. “Because that _is_ one of the Wonders.”

After a while, they went back in, dried off, and settled in bed to watch some more television. Armie flipped through the channels while Tim grabbed the tiramisu out of the refrigerator. They polished off the custard dessert while watching a late night talk show, Timmy humming in contented satisfaction with each bite. 

Armie disposed of the trash and then returned to the bed, laughing at the gob of custard clinging to the corner of Tim’s mouth. He reached out a finger, scooped it off, and deposited it on Tim’s tongue without thinking, only stopping to wonder what he was doing when Tim licked the custard off of his finger and then closed his lips around its tip momentarily. 

Neither of them commented on it, and Tim barely seemed to register it as something odd, so Armie shoved it aside. 

One talk show ended and a second began, and Tim began to fidget beside him, shifting position every few minutes. Armie waited for him to settle, wondering if it was the sugar from the dessert or something else that was making him so antsy. 

Finally, while Colbert was grilling Jake Gyllenhaal about some old photographs that had emerged, Tim leaned over Armie, reaching for the bedside table next to him. 

Armie held his breath while Tim stretched across him, their stomachs and chests brushing. To Armie’s surprise, Tim reached for the rope that Armie has set down before they went out to use the pool. He picked it up and rolled back over to his side of the bed.

He turned the ropes over and over in his hands, sliding his fingers along the lengths, toying with the ends. He looked thoughtful. 

“Pretty color,” he said, after a while. 

“Yeah. Goes with your eyes.” Armie flinched as soon as the words came out of his mouth. Why had he said _that_? 

Tim’s eyes — indeed green at the moment — flickered up to him, then back down. He slid one loop of rope over his wrist, and then off again, then back on, and tugged. Armie watched him, trying and failing not to let the image of the rope around Tim’s narrow wrist get burned into his brain. 

“Tim?” he asked cautiously, so as not to spook the kid. “What are you thinking?”

“Just that...maybe I said something about this at all because I know you’ve...and I’m...I never have.”

“Never have what?” Armie asked. 

“I’ve never used anything like this.” His voice was small, displaying a lack of confidence that sparked all of Armie’s most protective instincts. 

“Never?” he asked. Armie was trying desperately to ignore the relief he felt that that was true. It was stupid, but he didn’t like the idea of anyone else having so much power — even temporarily — over Tim. 

“No, I never trusted anyone enough.”

“But you’re curious?” Armie knew, without a doubt. That was true. And that, he realized, was what had caused Tim’s extreme reaction earlier. When he had told the resort staff he wanted to try bondage, he was telling the truth. 

Tim shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Well, then I hope someday you find someone you do trust enough. Because it can be really...satisfying.”

With an audible swallow, Timmy looked up. He suddenly appeared determined.

“I trust _you_ ,” he said. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do...do you want me to tie you up? Is that what you’re asking me?” Armie held his breath, waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for continuing to love this story and beg for updates! I love writing it and I’m so glad you love reading it. I’m a little behind on responding to comments but that’s because I’ve been writing so much...keep them coming, I will respond!
> 
> This chapter is a teeny bit heavier than the previous ones, but as we are moving closer to the conclusion, there have to be increased stakes. Don’t worry...there’s still a happy ending up ahead. 
> 
> Check out the stunning graphic created by blueishdesire (whatitis-inside)!
> 
> 100% fiction, probably.

Graphic by blueishdesire (whatitis-inside)

* * *

Armie struggled with impulse control.

This was not news. It was something he had been dealing with his whole life, and it got him into trouble frequently. Whether it was because someone said something that momentarily pissed him off, or whether someone was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it was too often that he just kind of let his emotions and thoughts fly without thinking them through.

Less often, but equally as troubling, was when he decided to do something because he _wanted_ to, in that moment, and fuck the consequences.

He knew all of this. He was trying to be better about it in general, which is why he was avoiding social media and counting to ten before responding to assholes or jumping into something that wasn’t good for him. It didn’t always work, but he was trying.

So when Timmy looked up at him, eyes wide and a little afraid, a loop of green silk bondage rope wrapped around his wrist, and said _I trust you_ , Armie started counting.

_One_. Tim blinked once, a slow blink, his mouth settling back into a line after it was done forming the _you_.

_Two._ Armie looked down, and caught sight of the rope around Timmy’s wrist.

_Three_. He looked away desperately, searching for anything to hold his attention while he got hold of himself.

_Four._ Timmy sighed.

_Five._ Armie looked back at Timmy, saw that he was now back to playing with the rope. His mouth was working, as if he was chewing on the inside of his lip.

_Six._ Armie swallowed.

_Seven._ _Don’t say it, asshole. This is a terrible idea._ Armie berated himself silently for a minute, and then lost the battle. If he was being honest with himself, he had lost before he had started counting.

“Do...do you want me to tie you up? Is that what you’re asking me?” Armie held his breath, waited.

“I think...yes,” Tim said, sounding a little breathless himself. “Maybe just a little. If you want, and if...it wouldn’t be too weird.” He frowned. “It’ll be too weird, won’t it?”

_Or amazing,_ Armie thought. He knew he had to approach this carefully. He wanted, more than anything, to wind the length of rope around Timmy’s body. To see it binding him, biting into his pale skin, leaving pink lines he could trace with his tongue afterwards.

But he had to be perfectly clear about the boundaries, or he was likely to cross them and do just that.

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” he said with a casual shrug, as if he were tossing it off and Tim’s decision wouldn’t affect him either way. “Bondage isn’t always about sex, if that’s what you meant. In fact, it often isn’t. It’s about giving and accepting trust. It _can_ be erotic, and thrilling, but it can also just be...settling. Soothing. For both parties, if that’s something they need.”

Tim was watching him, and after a moment, he nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I want to try it. See what it’s like.”

_Sure, you can handle this, Hammer. Give him what he needs and take nothing more._ Armie talked himself through it. It really wouldn’t be any different than any other bondage session, except the sex part was off the table. He always made sure to only do whatever his sub allowed him to do, anyway. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.

So. He would handle this like any other type of play. He examined Tim carefully. First, he had to check that Tim was okay to do this.

“You’re mostly sober, right?” Armie asked. It had been a while since they had had anything to drink, and Tim’s eyes were clear, but he needed to be sure.

“Yeah,” said Tim. “Just those couple of glasses of scotch a while ago. I’m fine. Why?”

Armie smiled. “It’s safer that way.”

Tim pulled the loop of rope off of his wrist and handed the bundled pile to Armie, then sat up straight, his legs crossed and his hands resting in his lap. Armie’s pulse jumped at the unintentionally submissive action. Tim cleared his throat and let out a little laugh. “Okay, so...what do I do? Do I need, like...a safe word or something?”

“If you’d like,” Armie said, unraveling the bundle until he had freed one length. “But you can also just tell me to stop. This is just a little taste. It isn’t going to be the type of thing where I wouldn’t listen to a simple _no_ from you. Or you can use _red_ , but if you want to pick something else, let me know.”

“I think I... _red_ is okay. I can remember that.” Tim was bouncing his knee now, vibrating a little. Armie laid a hand on it, waited until it stilled and Tim looked back up at him.

“Hey,” he said, “you said you trust me, right? So there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“Right,” Tim said. “I trust you.”

“We’re not going to do anything extreme,” Armie continued, rubbing his palm in a small circle on Tim’s knee. “Just a little, like you said. And we can stop anytime you want, if you’re uncomfortable, or if you’ve had enough, or just feel like you’ve gotten what you needed.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. Okay. So now what?”

Armie took a deep breath. Leaving his right hand on Tim’s knee as a point of contact and reassurance, he set the rope aside momentarily and held out his left hand, palm up. “Now, give me your hands.”

He waited, expecting a hesitation, but Tim immediately laid his wrists in Armie’s palm, face up, side by side, as if in offering. Armie huffed out a small breath at the sight, at the feel of Tim’s slim wrists on his palm. This was going to be difficult. Even more than he had thought, he realized. He should stop it now, tell Tim he was sorry, that he didn’t think it was a good idea after all.

But then he looked up into Tim’s eyes. There was a slight edge of nervousness at the edges, but mostly they were open, excited. Trusting.

He couldn’t let Tim down. He could never let Tim down.

“Good,” he said, letting approval warm his voice.

Armie picked up the free length of rope with his right hand and, with his eyes on Tim, he wrapped it securely around one wrist and then the other in a complex pattern. He fed the end through a couple of loops and then pulled it snug, testing to be sure the panic release was done properly and it wasn’t too tight against Tim’s skin.

Tim was watching the process, his mouth slightly open. His breathing had sped up, but he appeared otherwise relaxed.

“Okay,” Armie said, keeping his voice soft. “Give it a test.”

Tim tried to separate his wrists slightly. The ropes held. He pulled them at one angle and then another.

“How does that feel?” Armie asked.

“It’s — I don’t — I’m not —” Tim glanced up at him, and he could see the nerves were winning over the excitement. Armie took Tim’s hands in his, cradling them softly.

“Want me to undo it?” Armie lightly touched a small loop at the base. “I pull this and the whole thing comes apart in a second. Want to see?”

Tim looked at the loop curiously. He held his wrists up, turning them around one way and then the other as much as he could. His brow furrowed, and his lower lip stuck out slightly, as he tried to work out the way the rope was wound.

“Huh,” he said, after a moment. “That really undoes the whole thing?”

“It does. Want me to pull it?” Armie waited, and was both relieved and newly anxious when Tim shook his head.

“No, I’m good,” Tim said. “It was just a weird feeling for a second.”

Armie watched him carefully, looking for signs of distress, but he did seem more relaxed. “All right,” Armie said. “So...how does it feel?”

“Like a said, a little weird. I’m used to being able to use my hands, and with this — “ He tugged at the ropes again. “ — it makes me a little nervous. Having you here helps. If it was anyone else, I might not...but it’s okay.”

“A little nervous is fine,” Armie said. “A little nervous can be exciting. A lot nervous is what we don’t want.”

“I’m good,” Tim said. And he did seem good, Armie thought. “Now what?”

“Want to keep going?”

“Yes.”

Armie patted Tim’s knee and then backed off of the bed, standing next to it. Tim looked up at him expectantly.

“Lie down,” Armie said. “On your back, like normal, but scootch down closer to the foot.”

Once again, Tim immediately obeyed, stretching out on his back on top of the bedding. Armie moved around, tugging it straight so that he wasn’t lying on any wrinkles or lumps. He slid the pillow under Tim’s head. Then he picked up another length of rope and came to stand by Tim’s head.

“Hands,” he said, holding his own hand above Tim’s stomach, where his bound wrists were resting. Tim lifted his wrists and laid them in Armie’s hand again, and Armie’s pulse picked up once more.

He gently drew Tim’s hands over his head and secured them to the slats of the headboard. He tugged them once, adjusted, and tugged them again. Satisfied, he stepped back, and his breath caught.

Now Tim was laid out on the bed, his arms stretched over his head, his wrists bound together.  Armie could see his chest and stomach rising and falling as he breathed, could see the way he tugged slightly at the restraints, wiggling and testing their limits. It made his mouth dry and his vision blur a little.

He had fantasized about this countless times. He began counting again in his head, reminding himself that he was doing this for Tim’s benefit, and not his. That this wasn’t his fantasy, it was real life, and there were boundaries he shouldn’t cross.

“How does that feel?” he asked, hoping he sounded less breathless than he was feeling.

“It’s so weird,” Tim said. “So weird.” He yanked at his hands again, and then let out a giant sigh. The sigh seemed to expel all the nervous energy and tension, and he went still, relaxing, no longer pulling on the restraints. He closed his eyes. “Hmmmm. That’s better.”

“What’s better?” Armie asked.

“If I’m not pulling on them I don’t really know the ropes are there. So if I’m just still — like this — it’s nice. Kind of like...giving in. It’s a relief. I don’t know. Maybe that’s stupid.” He opened his eyes, and Armie saw a brief flash of embarrassment.

“It’s not,” Armie said. “It’s not stupid at all. So this relaxes you, because it forces you to be still.”

Now the flash in Tim’s eyes was grateful. “Yes, exactly that.”

“Had enough?” Armie gestured to Tim’s arms. “Want me to let you out?”

Tim bit his lower lip a minute, chewing thoughtfully. Then he shook his head. “No. I mean...there’s more, right? I can do more.”

Armie nodded. “Legs?” he asked.

“Sure.”

When Armie turned away to gather more rope, he closed his eyes. Which way to proceed, he wondered? Should he wrap Tim’s legs together from thigh to ankle, bind him that way? Or secure his ankles to the bed separately? He loved seeing his partners bound to themselves instead of to stationary objects. Arms restrained across the chest, legs together, sometimes knees pulled to the chest. But this wasn’t about what he liked. After a moment’s consideration, he chose two lengths instead of one. Best to keep things simple so he could get Tim out of them fast if necessary.

He moved to the foot of the bed.

“Hang on,” Tim said. He began to flex his ankles and move his legs around.

“What are you doing?” asked Armie. He couldn’t help the amused smile that spread across his face as the sight of Tim, wiggling like he had ants in his pants.

“Just getting out the restlessness,” Tim said. He went still. “Okay, I’m good.”

Armie nodded, and then reached for Tim’s left ankle and secured it by creating a wide loop and tucking it under the corner of the mattress, since there was no footboard and the base of the bed sat flush with the floor. He did the same for the other, and then stepped back.

He expected Tim to tug at the new restraints, test them, but he didn’t. He continued to lay still, relaxed, exactly how Armie had placed him. Armie licked his lips.

“How is that?” he asked.

“Good,” Tim said. “I feel...calm.”

_Jesus_. Armie couldn’t quite believe how easily Tim was taking to being restrained. Like earlier, when he had handed Armie the rope, or responded to Armie’s direction without hesitation, he seemed to naturally be able to willingly hand over power. If they were really in a relationship —

_You’re not. Don’t go there,_ Armie reminded himself.

“So,” Armie said, clearing his throat. “That’s bondage. I mean...it’s a taste of it, but you seem to like it all right, so I guess now...you know.”

Tim frowned. “There’s more, though. Right? Not just like...being tied up.”

“Well…” Armie hesitated. “There can be. Like I said, bondage doesn’t have to be about sex, and there are a million ways to do it. I tied you to the bed because it’s simple and easier to get you out of, but I could also have wrapped you up more.”

“Like how?” Tim asked.

Armie tried to think how to explain, and finally grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He did a quick google image search, and then held the phone so Tim could see it.

“Like that,” he said.

Tim’s eyes widened. He swallowed. “Oh,” he said, his voice sounding small.

“I mean, that’s like...if you really wanted to get into it,” Armie explained.

“You know how to do that?” Tim asked.

Armie nodded, flushing a little at how impressed Tim sounded. He set his phone down again.

“So I should let you out,” he said, reaching for Tim’s wrists.

“Wait,” Tim said. Armie paused, his arm outstretched. “Can you...if you were doing this with someone, for real, what else would you do?”

_What?_ Armie tried to figure out what Tim was asking him. If this were a real relationship, Tim wouldn’t be wearing his pajama pants and t-shirt. He would be naked, and Armie would be licking every square inch of Tim’s exposed body. He would pinch and suck and bite his nipples and play with his balls until he was squirming and begging and pleading and —

But that wasn’t what Tim was asking him. He _had_ told Tim that this didn’t have to be about sex. So...even if it might lead there, what else would he do?

“Sensation play,” Armie blurted out. When Tim just looked at him for more explanation, he said, “I’d let you feel things — physical touch, different kinds — that might remind you of the fact that you’re restrained. That you can’t avoid them, and just have to experience it, because you’ve handed over trust and power. To me.”

The last two words were said very softly, almost to himself.

“I’ve read about that,” Tim said. “It’s like...ice cubes and feathers and stuff, right?”

Armie chuckled. Of course Tim had read up on things. “Sure, but it can be anything. Just touching with your hands can serve the same essential purpose. The point is the lack of ability to decide what you feel and how.”

“Okay,” Tim said.

Armie frowned at him. “Okay...what?”

“Okay, do it,” Tim said. “This feels easy. But I’m just...tied up. You’re not doing anything. I want to see what it’s like when you do.”

“Tim…” Armie took a step back. “I just want to be clear about this. You want me to…” he swallowed, “ _touch_ you. While you’re restrained.”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“No, I…” _I really fucking want to, and therein lies the whole problem._ But this was about Tim. For Tim. He could give Tim something without losing control. Right? “I want to. I mean, I don’t mind.”

He took a moment to consider. And then he just said _the hell with it_ and stepped close again. He would find the line, and then stay far away from it. And otherwise, he was just going to go with what felt right, because that would give Tim the best experience.

Armie laid a hand on Tim’s chest, left it there a minute. Tim watched it, how it rose and fell erratically as his breathing changed. Armie waited until it was even and relaxed again, and then trailed his hand up to Tim’s neck, traced his fingers under Tim’s jaw, tipped his chin up.

Tim let out an explosion of breath.

“Okay?” Armie asked. “Remember, tell me if it’s not.”

“Fine,” Tim said. “And yes, I remember.”

Armie slid his fingers around Tim’s jaw, then danced them across his cheeks, his nose, and his lips. Safe areas. Area he was allowed to touch, had been touching all weekend. Tim’s eyes slid closed, his lips parted slightly.

Taking that as encouragement, Armie continued to stroke Tim’s face, his temples, and his hair with one hand. He brought his other hand up and hovered it over Tim’s chest, thinking he would start in the same place. But then, at the last second, he moved it lower and laid it on Tim’s stomach instead.

Tim gasped, his stomach contracting under Armie’s palm, and his eyes flew open.

Armie took his hand away from Tim’s stomach but continued to stroke his face. Tim relaxed again, closed his eyes.

The next time, Armie placed three fingers in Tim’s armpit and stroked lightly. Tim made a whimpering sound and yanked at the ropes securing his hands.

“Shit,” he gasped.

Armie did it again, and then a third time, and Tim began to yank in earnest. He hadn’t said _no_ or _stop_ or _red_ , was just making these little mewling sounds in the back of his throat. He still had his eyes closed.

“Tim, open your eyes,” Armie said, watching him carefully.

Tim’s eyes flew open. Armie searched them for signs of distress, but he saw none. What he saw was excitement and…it was just excitement. That’s all it was.

Satisfied, Armie swept a hand over Tim’s chest and stomach, and then up one side and back down. He imagined doing this with his lips, his tongue, nipping at the sensitive places he was re-discovering. Because he had known them all before, once upon a time. Knew every nook that made Tim squirm, every spot that made him sigh, every inch that made him shudder.

He had put it out of his mind as best he could, but now, with Tim spread out before him like a buffet, it was coming back in full. He began to move more deliberately, with increased focus, narrowing his vision just to Tim and his responses.

If he tapped on the tiny pocket of Tim’s left hip, Tim would jerk away — like that.

If he slid his fingers down the back of Tim’s thigh, Tim would stretch his leg — like that.

If he tickled the base of Tim’s throat, his collarbone, he would moan softly — like that.

If he played with Tim’s belly button, sticking his tongue inside —

Armie backed up abruptly. He had been leaning in, his head inches from Tim’s stomach, his fingers tucked under the edge of Tim’s shirt. He had been about to... _shit. There was the line. There was the line, and he had been about to cross it._

He blinked and took several deep breaths, fists grinding into his thighs, trying to bring himself back to reality.

When his vision cleared, he focused back on Tim, checking on him.

Tim was laying still, his eyes closed, his lips parted. He was breathing quickly, but evenly, his chest rising up and down in short, steady gasps. And there was an unmistakable bulge in his pajama pants, a long line across Tim’s groin that hadn’t been visible before.

_Fuck_. He had gone too far. It was time to end this.

Armie approached the bed again. He laid his hand on Tim’s forehead.

“Tim?” he said, softly. “Can you look at me?”

Tim sighed, and then his eyelids fluttered open. His lips stayed slightly parted, his breathing continued in short gasps, and his eyes were glazed over.

_Fuck, fuck, triple fuck._ Way too far.

“I’m going to untie you now, okay?” Armie kept his voice gentle, soothing. It seemed to take Tim a minute to hear his words, so he said Tim’s name and repeated himself. “Tim? I’m going to untie you.” After a beat of consideration, he added, “You did such a good job.”

Tim _hummed_.

Armie quickly released Tim’s ankles first, then his wrists. He tossed the rope in a heap on the floor, then slid onto the bed. Tim was blinking at him, a half-smile on his face, looking dazed. Then he pushed himself up and crawled into Armie’s lap.

Armie had expected that. But he had expected Tim to sit in his lap, legs thrown over one side, back cradled against Armie’s other arm. He had not expected Tim to straddle him chest to chest, wrapping his legs around Armie’s waist and his arms around Armie’s shoulders.

Like an octopus, Armie thought, remembering that morning. _My little octopus_. He smiled fondly and held Tim close, guiding Tim’s head down onto his collarbone and rubbing his back in small circles.

He’d give Tim a few minutes, and then he’d bring him back up. There was a water bottle on the bedside table, and a little dish of chocolates on the coffee table.

Tim’s breathing began to slow, and Armie continued to stroke his back lightly. He hadn’t expected Tim to actually hit subspace so easily, but he recognized the signs well. They hadn’t done much, but maybe he should have expected this. Tim had so easily put himself into a submissive role, had so readily accepted Armie’s direction, had so quickly adjusted to being restrained.

_Shit_ , Armie should have been more careful. This would definitely freak Tim out when he came out of it. They’d have to have a long talk about it, and Armie would caution him to be careful about playing with people since he’d be so vulnerable so easily.

Or maybe it was just...that Tim trusted _him_ so much? Maybe with someone else he’d be more on his guard, not be able to surrender so willingly.

That thought made Armie’s heart both sing with joy and shrink in fear.

Tim shifted in his arms. Was he coming out of subspace already? Armie waited for the million questions Tim was sure to have.

But there were none. Tim didn’t say anything. Instead, he tipped his head up and opened his lips over a spot on the underside of Armie’s chin, sucked lightly. Armie froze. He tried to ignore the way that spot on his skin lit up with crackling nerves, wanting to let Tim take what he needed.

He kept up this mantra — _give Tim what he needs, take nothing for yourself_ — while Tim nuzzled at his chest, while he ran his fingers through Armie’s hair, while he licked his way up Armie’s neck. But then he shifted, gave a little shudder, and rolled his hips.

“Tim?” Armie asked, holding very still.

Armie could feel Tim’s hardness, poking against him, narrowly missing his own cock, which had been at various stages of alertness all night.

“Tim,” he tried again. “What are you doing?”

Tim rolled his hips against Armie, moaned softly, and sucked again. “Armie,” he whispered, “I want…” Another roll, this one hitting its mark. As their cocks slid against each other, Armie thought, _I should stop this_.

But how? He didn’t want to just push Tim away. Well, what he _wanted_ was to say _thank god_ and kiss Tim until they were both breathless. Then he wanted to drag Tim’s clothes off of him and do all of the things he had been envisioning all night. All year. All his _life_ , it felt like.

But he shouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that.

Could he?

“Please,” Tim murmured, against Armie’s neck. He cupped a hand behind Armie’s head, pulled his face down, and kissed him deeply. Armie let it happen. He was helpless to stop it. No part of him could refuse Tim access to his mouth. 

He kissed Tim back. It was slow, languid. There was no urgency to it, no sense that this had to be stolen. It reminded him of their last kiss on the beach, when for a second he could live in the fantasy that this was his real life to savor and enjoy.

Then Tim rolled his hips again, this time pulling a groan from Armie as well as himself. “Armie,” he said, his voice hitting a whine. “Please. I need...need…I just...please.”

Armie knew the chill was coming before it hit his spine. What was he thinking? Tim _needed_ him. Needed him to be the one with a clear head, to keep them from going down a path they weren’t going to be able to come back from. Tim was too vulnerable. He wasn’t thinking straight. He didn’t know what he needed, and had trusted Armie to be there for him.

If Armie let this happen, _now_ , things would be irrevocably altered. They’d lose that friendship they had worked so hard to preserve and grow after Crema. It was bad enough that he had allowed Tim to talk him into bondage play, that might affect them as well. But if Armie let _this_ happen, while Tim wasn’t himself, he was going to _lose_ Tim. He was sure of it.

That was why, when Tim went for his mouth again, he dodged, ending up with lips on his chin.

“We can’t,” Armie said. He hated himself for saying it, felt a physical pain slice across his gut, but knew it was the right thing.

“But—”

“Tim, listen to me. You need to sleep now, okay? We can talk in the morning.”

“Armie.” Tim tried to hike his leg higher, curved his back so that his hips shifted and Armie felt Tim’s ass drag along his cock. Armie clenched his teeth to keep from responding. “Armie, please. I want—”

“No, Tim.” The words came out more harshly than he had meant them to, but they had the intended effect. Tim shrank back slightly.

“No?” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

“No,” Armie said, softening his tone as much as possible. He put a hand in Tim’s hair, stroked his fingers through it, and then gently kissed him lightly. “Just relax, okay? Trust me to know what you need. I’ll take care of you.”

He lifted Tim off of his lap and set him on the bed, and stood to retrieve the chocolate bar the water bottle. When he got back to the bed, Tim blinked at him, looking utterly lost, and Armie felt his heart crumbling to pieces. This had been such a huge mistake.

He handed the water bottle to Tim, who just looked at it.

“Here,” Armie said. “I need you to drink this.” He took the bottle back, uncapped it, and when Tim didn’t make a move to take it back, Armie helped him drink, catching the trickles that escaped the corners of his mouth in one palm, which he wiped on his pants.

Then he unwrapped a piece of chocolate. “Open up,” he said. Tim did, immediately, and Armie slipped the chocolate onto his tongue. “Suck on that, okay? Don’t chew it.” Armie smiled when Tim closed his mouth and his cheeks hollowed slightly.

He pulled the bedding out from under Tim, then helped him slide underneath. Armie turned out all of the lights in the room except for the one by the bed. Before he joined Tim, he peered at him. Tim was still watching him silently, his eyes wide, but he looked more alert.

Armie flicked off the last light and crawled into bed. He tucked up the bedding around them and gathered Tim close, pulling his face down to Armie’s chest and wrapping his arms around Tim’s back.

When Tim sighed and nuzzled his way up to Armie’s cheeks, Armie couldn’t stop himself from kissing Tim again. And again, and again, trying to keep the pace slow and soft. After a while, he pulled back. Tim hummed in satisfaction.

“Sleep now, okay?” Armie said. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Tim snuggled into him, throwing a leg over his hip. Cursing his stupid lack of impulse control for not making him put a stop to this before it had started, Armie stroked Tim’s back until he had drifted off, and then pulled him even closer.

Thoughts raced through Armie’s head, keeping him awake. What would Tim remember on the morning? Would he think Armie had taken advantage of him? Would he be angry at Armie for putting him in such a vulnerable position? Embarrassed that he had been aroused at all? Armie worried about all of these things, and it was a long while before he found slumber himself.

When the morning light was streaming in through the edges of the curtains a few hours later, Armie fought his way to consciousness, feeling like he had been yanked out of sleep. What had woken him up? He felt heavy, his stomach in knots, dreading the morning before he even remembered why. He scrubbed at his gritty eyes and blinked up at the ceiling, trying to identify the source of his unease.

_Vacation. Tim. Last night...fuck._

He sat up, looked around, and everything inside of him sank like a stone.

The bed next to him was empty. The door to the bathroom was open, and the room was dark. Tim was nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m onlyastoryteller on Tumblr if you need to wring my neck.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt like he had been fighting against his need for Timmy forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the brief delay! This one gave me trouble because these boys struggle when they aren’t together and thus, so do I. 
> 
> 100% fiction. Probably.

The key to navigating the ups and downs of life, Armie thought, was to recognize when you needed to ride with the current, waiting for it to change or bring you somewhere new, and when you needed to fight against it because it was pushing you towards disaster.

He felt like he had been fighting against his need for Timmy forever. First, he fought because he was married; because Tim was young and it would be unfair to burden him with Armie’s complicated baggage; because it wasn’t real, it was just the immersion in the role, the heady experience of Italy, a reaction to troubles with Elizabeth. Then he fought because he was trying to get things back _on track_ : baby on the way, new projects to tackle, he couldn’t spend all his time thinking about the way Timmy smiled. Next he fought because he was terrified of losing what they had, this beautiful friendship that made his life better, brighter, more colorful.

And that was where he was now. Fighting against the current that seemed to be flowing more and more swiftly towards the turbulent rapids and, beyond that, the falls. He couldn’t ride with it because he knew that if he did, he’d be dashed on the rocks. So he had to fight wherever he could, even when Tim’s trusting and affectionate nature made it difficult.

But fighting had casualties, and it looked like right now, the casualty was Timmy himself.

Armie buried his head in his hands. He knew last night had been a mistake. He should have said no from the beginning, as soon as Tim suggested the session. Tim hadn’t known what he was asking, not really, but Armie had. For a second, he had tried to go with it, in the name of making Timmy happy. He should have known that wasn’t going to work.

Tim was probably off somewhere, still feeling the effects of the session, shaky and uncertain. He was probably angry with Armie, feeling like he had been taken advantage of, like Armie had put him in a bad situation. He might not even remember everything, just a negative feeling.

Armie cursed out loud, and smacked the mattress with his palm. They had been having such a good time, and he had to go and fuck it up. Like usual.

Okay. So he screwed up, he would fix it. That was what he did, right? He screwed things up but he didn’t wallow, he fucking _fixed_ them. The first thing he needed to do was find Tim.

He grabbed for his phone and let out a sigh of relief to see a text notification waiting. He unlocked the phone and flipped over to his messages, skimming the one from Tim. It had come in fifteen minutes earlier.

_T_ _: I went for a walk. I’ll meet you at the yacht. Eleven, right?_

He tapped out a reply.

_A_ _: Right. You want to meet for breakfast first? Just tell me where._

The answer came immediately.

_T_ _: No, I’m not hungry._

Armie paused. Being hungry wasn’t really the point, and Tim knew that. Should he respond? What should he say? He thought for a minute.

_A_ _: You sure? You should eat. Everything okay?_

This time, five long agonizing minutes passed. Armie stared at his phone, willing a text to come in, afraid to think what it would mean if it didn’t. Then,

_T_ _: We can talk later. Don’t worry about me. Enjoy breakfast._

Armie frowned. That wasn’t a _yes, I’m okay._ It was pretty much as far from that as it could get. And _don’t worry about him_? That was an impossible request. But, at a loss as to what else to do Armie sent a thumbs up emoji, and didn’t hear back.

He went through the motions of getting ready for the day, his stomach rolling every time he thought about what Tim was doing. Where was he? What was he thinking about? What was he deciding? How much did he hate Armie for last night?

An hour later, he was ordering breakfast at one of the cafés. He was staring out at the ocean with one eye while scanning the people around him with the other, looking for a mop of dark hair and slightly hunched shoulders, fluid movement and self-conscious sidling. He maintained his alertness throughout the rest of the morning, only reading a paragraph of his book at a time before looking around again, afraid to miss him. He finally gave up trying to distract himself and walked the paths and the beach, scanning, always scanning.

The closer the time for the excursion came, the more on edge Armie felt. The nerves that jangled in his chest and stomach made it difficult to draw a complete breath. What would Tim say? How would he look at Armie?

Armie wasn’t sure he could take it if Tim told him he wanted to cut the trip short, or that he needed space. He rehearsed a million things to say in his head — _I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it, I should have untied you earlier, I shouldn’t have touched you at all, I should have stayed awake to make sure you were okay, please forgive me, it’ll never happen again._

_Don’t give up on me._

As his feet took him to the excursion post on the beach, he thought he might need to find a spot to get sick before going on board.

The young man behind the counter grinned at him as he approached. “Morning, sir,” he said, with a wave. “How can I help you? Want to take a dive trip this afternoon?”

“No, actually, I’m here for a yacht excursion,” Armie said. “Last name H — Mobley.”  He caught himself from saying the wrong name just in time. “The other name on the reservation is Flender.”

“Right, you guys were the big winners yesterday. Congrats! I caught the end of that event and you swept the floor with the other couples.” The guy, whose name tag claimed he was “Rodney,” pulled a tablet out from under the counter and swiped and tapped at the screen. “She’s out there, if you want to get a look at her. She goes by the name _Risk and Reward._ ”

Armie turned around and peered out over the water. He let out a low whistle upon realizing that the hundred-and-twelve foot craft gleaming in the mid-day sun a ways out from the beach was where they would be spending the next four hours. “Wow,” he said. “She’s a beauty.”

“Sure is,” Rodney said with pride. “The nicest boat in our fleet.” He looked around and frowned. “I’ve got to call the tender boat to take you out. Is your partner on his way?”

“He…” Armie glanced at his phone, trying to ignore the spear of anxiety that shot through his stomach. It was only quarter-to-eleven. Tim still had time to show up. “He was meeting me here at eleven, I’m a bit early.”

Or he wasn’t coming at all. Armie felt even more sick at the thought, that Tim might decide to say _fuck it_ and stay away. He imagined himself wandering the resort all day and all night, searching for Timmy and falling further and further down this pit of misery and regret.

“Great. Well, let me know when he arrives and we’ll get you both out to meet your vessel.” Rodney turned away to talk to another guest, who had approached to ask about sailing excursions.

Armie looked at his phone again, willing for Tim to at least send a text confirming he was on his way. His heart skipped a beat when, just as he was about to give up, a notification flashed. It sank just as quickly when he saw it was from Elizabeth.

_E_ _: Call me. No one is dying, but it’s important. Hope you’re having fun._

He hit the “call back” button immediately.

“Hey there,” she said when she picked up. “I didn’t expect you to call so quick. Are you bored?”

“You said it was important,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Hops is making me crazy.”

“Moreso than usual?” He smiled into the phone, thinking of his fearless, opinionated daughter.

“Yes.” She sighed. “I think this is part of the whole backlash to the divorce, which is why I’m talking to you about it. She says she doesn’t want to do dance anymore. She pitched a fit and refused to go to her lesson today.”

“But she loves dance.”

“I know that. You know that. She knows that. But she told me she didn’t like it anymore and didn’t want to do it unless you promised to come to every one of her classes with her.”

Armie scrubbed a hand across his forehead. Definitely a reaction to the divorce. He and Elizabeth had already been separated for some time, and they also thought that, in general, the kids would adjust okay because they were both so often traveling. He had underestimated the gravity of explaining to a five-year-old what a divorce was and why Daddy had his own permanent place to live now.

“Look, I know that’s impossible and not because the divorce has anything to do with it. I’d normally tell her fine, let her not go for a while, and then beg to go back once she realized we were calling her bluff. But we just enrolled her in that elite academy. That wasn’t cheap, and they have strict attendance rules.” Elizabeth sounded exasperated. He imagined she had gone several rounds with Harper before calling him.

“I can talk to her,” he said. “Is she there with you now?”

“Yeah, hang on a second. Harper!”

There was some scuffling, and then his daughter's sweet voice was in his ear. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, baby,” he said. “What’s this about you not liking dance anymore?”

She huffed, and he could just imagine her little annoyed face. “I don’t want to do it.”

“Why? You’ve always loved it so much. You get to spin around and wear pretty costumes—”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, think about it a little more, okay? I know I missed the last recital so I really wanted to get a chance to see one live next time.”

“You’ll come? You promise?”

“I promise,” he said. He held his breath, praying he wasn’t making a promise he couldn’t keep. He’d just have to find a way to make it work.

“Okay,” she said.

“So you’ll keep going to dance and not give Mommy any trouble?”

“I will. Can you come and play art studio with me right now?”

He smiled. “I’m afraid I can’t today, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m far away from home. But when I get back we can play art studio for a whole day if you want. Just you and me.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I’m on an island with a beach. I can send Mommy pictures so she can show you.”

“Are you all by yourself?”

“No, I…” his breath caught in his throat, and he cleared it. “Uncle Timmy is with me.”

“Oh.” She was quiet for a minute. “When will you be home?”

“Tomorrow night,” he said. “Pretty late, though. I can pick you up on Monday if Mommy says it’s okay, and we can do whatever you want. The whole day.”

“Will you wake me up when you get home tomorrow night for a good night kiss?” she asked. “I promise to go right back to sleep.”

He sighed. “Baby, I’d love nothing more than to kiss you goodnight tomorrow. I’d kiss you right now if I could. But it’ll have to wait until Monday.”

She heaved a sigh, and he smirked. So theatrical, just like her mother. “Okay. Bye, Daddy.”

There was some more scuffling, and then Elizabeth was back. “Well, she says she’ll go to dance. I think we can still make it if we hurry, I better go.”

“Okay. And if...we can always undo it. The—“

“The academy? Yeah, I know. We lose ten percent if we withdraw within the next three weeks. But I think it’ll be okay. Thanks for calling.”

“I always will when you need me,” he said. “That hasn’t changed.”

She laughed. “Okay. Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

He said goodbye and hung up. It was just eleven. Was Timmy going to show? When he turned to look around he jumped, his stomach shooting into his throat.

Tim was standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts, staring at him. The relief was immediate and overwhelming. Armie’s knees threatened to buckle, and he took a deep breath, praying that he’d stay upright.

His first instinct was to leap across the space and fold Tim into his arms. He actually reached out a hand and took a step forward before he registered the look on Tim’s face. The expression was one of strain and distress. He looked away as soon as Armie caught his eye.

“Hey,” Armie said, keeping his distance. “You made it. I wasn’t sure — I mean, that’s good.”

Tim scuffed a sandal in the sand and gestured out over the water with his chin. “That the yacht?” he asked, his voice thin.

“Yeah. Bigger than I thought,” Armie said. “Let me let the guy know you’re here and they’ll take us out.”

Seven awkward, silent minutes later, they were perched in a small motor boat headed for the yacht. Armie had tried to make conversation a handful of times, but after getting tight, one-word answers from Tim, who still wouldn’t look him in the eye, he gave up.

If this continued, it was going to be a long four-hour trip.

The yacht was a hundred-and-twelve feet of sleek luxury. Armie was distracted from his frayed nerves enough to be impressed as he stepped onto the teak floorboards and looked around, taking in the deck jacuzzi, the plush seating area, the dive launch. There was an indoor lounge section in view as well, but the windows were tinted and he couldn’t see inside. A staffer came through a door from that section, waving and smiling.

“Mr. Mobley? Mr. Flender?” she asked.

“Uh...yeah,” Armie said, taking a second to remember. “Hal Mobley, and this is my...partner. Doug Flender.”

He reached out his hand, and she shook it firmly. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Gwen, and I’ll be taking care of you guys today. If you come with me, I can get you a refreshment and show you around.”

Armie followed her through the door into the interior lounge. He could feel Tim behind him. Even with the clear distance between them, the prickling on his neck and back told him Tim was close, and watching him. He resisted the urge to look back. Things were obviously wrong, and they weren’t going to be able to work anything out until they were alone.

“Have a seat,” Gwen said, gesturing widely towards the L-shaped sofa. “What can I get you to drink?”

Armie risked a glance at Tim, who was now staring out the window at the ocean. The closed-up, far off look on his face was worrisome.

“Surprise us,” Armie said, flashing Gwen a smile.

She winked. “Will do.”

Gwen bustled over to the bar in the corner and began to pull out bottles and glassware. Armie set his bag down by the door, then turned and looked out the window at the water as well.

The sun sparkled on the pure blue waves, and while every other time such a sight had been one of joy, now it seemed to be mocking him by presenting a sharp contrast to the gloominess of the mood in the lounge.

After a minute, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tim shift and look at him, and he resisted the urge to look back. If Tim’s face revealed disappointment or aversion of any kind, he was going to have trouble keeping it together. Best to wait for Gwen to finish up.

She crossed the room with two champagne glasses filled with a golden-hued liquid and garnished with lemon twists. “Here you are,” she said. “Why don’t you both come with me. We’ll go up to the bridge and meet the Captain, let him know we’re ready to leave, and then I’ll show you around.”

Armie took both glasses and then offered one to Tim. When he took it, their fingers brushed. After two days of close physical affection, the distance of the morning must have left Armie starved for the touch he had allowed himself to become so accustomed to. The spark he felt at the simple, momentary contact had him biting his cheek to keep from immediately moving closer, taking more.

He heard a soft intake of breath, and when he dared to look up at Tim, his eyes were wide and open, and he was clutching the champagne glass tightly, the tips of his fingers gone white from the pressure. Then Tim’s eyes flickered to the right and down to the floor.

Had Tim felt it too? That little frisson when they touched?

Was he _nervous_?

Gwen was disappearing through a door on the opposite side of the lounge, and Armie hurried to follow, brushing off his fleeting thought. What would Tim be nervous about, unless it was how to tell Armie they were finished?

The Captain was a broad-shouldered man with a firm handshake and a booming voice. He welcomed them on board and told them to let him know if they had any preference on course; otherwise he’d take them out and they’d cruise a while before heading back in.

Gwen then brought them around the yacht. She pointed out the sunning area on the bow, a second on the highest deck, the jacuzzi, and the aft lounge area. She showed them the fully stocked bar and told them that they’d be served lunch in a while but should feel free to ask if there’s anything else they would like to eat or drink at anytime. She also showed them the berths. They wouldn’t be out overnight, and she acknowledged that they probably didn’t want to waste their time on the yacht sleeping, but wanted them to know they were there. She winked when she said it.

Throughout the tour, Tim kept a buffer of about two feet between them. Every time Armie moved any closer, he edged away, as though he was yielding to Armie’s claiming of space. It was making Armie crazy, to have him so close and yet...not. To be able to reach out but know that if he did, he’d get a fistful of air because Tim would have slid away.

By the time Gwen led them back up to where they had started and indicated that lunch would be served in an hour, Armie’s skin was prickling. He needed to talk to Tim. He needed Tim to talk to him. He needed to _know_ how bad it was, so that he could start to try to fix it.

He was going to fix it. He just needed Tim to tell him how.

When Gwen left, they stood uncomfortably for a minute, both looking out at the rapidly receding beachfront. Finally, Armie cleared his throat.

“What is this drink, anyway?” he asked, waving his half-empty glass and keeping his tone as light as possible. “I thought it was champagne, but—“

“It’s a French 75,” Tim said. “Champagne, gin, lemon juice. Sugar, I think. You don’t like it?”

“I do, actually.” Armie took another sip.

More silence. He tried again.

“This boat is something, isn’t it? I’d love to take it out for a weekend instead of just an afternoon. And it would be a great place to throw a party.”

Tim made a noncommittal noise, and Armie sighed. He tossed back the rest of his drink and then sank onto the U-shaped bench seat and looked out at the wake forming behind them as the yacht picked up speed.

He tried to think what else to say. Whether he should try to say anything, or if he should just start apologizing. Groveling. Promising to never again do anything like he had done the night before.

He also considered getting up and pouring himself another drink, this time something much stronger.

While he was thinking, Tim moved to the opposite side of the U-shape, sitting across the table from Armie but facing the stern. He set his own empty glass on that table and then hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

When he spoke, it was so unexpected Armie jumped.

“Did you...how was your morning?” Tim’s voice trembled slightly, and it was obvious to Armie he was trying to sound upbeat but knew he was failing miserably.

Armie, surprised by the nature of the question but hopeful that Tim was talking to him at all, thought about how to respond. He decided to go with honesty. “It sucked,” he said.

“Oh? I...what happened?” Tim asked. He looked fully at Armie then, his apparent anxiety shifting seamlessly into concern. That gave Armie even more hope.

“Timmy…” Armie rubbed a hand over his face. “It sucked because you took off. I was worried about you.”

Tim bit his lip and shifted in his seat, but didn’t drop his gaze. “I’m _sorry,_ ” he said. “I’m so sorry, Armie. I didn’t mean to worry you. Or...make you have a bad time or... _shit._ ”

He ducked his head and stared at his hands, twisting and untwisting his fingers.

“Be honest with me. Just...please. How badly did I fuck things up? Between us?” Tim snuck a glance at Armie.

_What?_

Armie frowned, and shook his head, and Tim shrank further away from him, folding in on himself.

“I knew it,” he said. “I tried to think...if there was any way…” Then he gathered himself up, took a deep breath, and said, “I can tell them to turn around. If you wanted to — I mean, if you wanted to leave early.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Armie asked. Now Tim wasn’t making any sense. “ _I_ don’t want to leave early.”

“Right.” Tim jumped up, headed for the door to the lounge. “You should stay. Enjoy the rest of the vacation. I should be the one to go.”

“Wait, Tim —“ Armie stood, held up a hand. “Just wait a second, will you? Slow down. I don’t want _you_ to go either.”

Tim turned around slowly. “You don’t?”

“No,” Armie said. “Can you sit down again, so we can have an actual conversation? Because I’m confused as hell at the moment.”

After a hesitation, Tim nodded and returned to his side of the table. His knee bounced erratically as he spoke, causing his voice to vibrate and jump. “I need you to believe me that I’m really fucking sorry. And if there’s any way that you could forget about the whole thing, I’d just...I’ll make it up to you somehow. I shouldn’t have — but I was so sure that — and after you — it doesn’t matter, I just shouldn’t have. I was wrong.”

“Okay.” Armie sat back and threw his hands in the air. “I’m still confused. What are _you_ apologizing for? I’m the one who needs to apologize. I hurt you. I fucked up, and handled everything badly. That’s why you ran off, and it’s been making me crazy all morning that I couldn’t just say I was sorry and promise it would never happen again and hope I hadn’t ruined everything.”

Tim was staring at Armie, his mouth hanging open. He shook his head, his curls flying furiously. “No. What did _you_ do? I’m the one who crossed the line.”

“What line did _you_ cross?” Armie asked.

“The...the line! The one between what we’re doing to pretend and what’s real.” Tim’s voice hit a higher octave, and he stood again, pacing to the railing before turning back. “I threw myself at you, and completely ignored what you had _said_ you wanted. Or rather, _didn’t_ want. God, I’m so embarrassed. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I mean, I wasn’t, obviously. I know we aren’t really — I think my brain somehow got confused. And now you’ve got...you’re going back to...I just don’t want this to be weird.” He buried his face in his hands and mumbled some more words that sounded like a never ending loop of _I’m sorry_.

“Timmy, _stop_.” Armie was up in an instant and across the deck, his arms going around Tim before he consciously thought about whether that would be welcome or not. Tim stiffened.

_Not welcome, then._

He couldn’t help giving Tim’s shoulders a rub before he released him and took a step back.

“Tim, listen,” he said. “You didn’t cross a damned thing. You’re fine. I’m not upset with you. For that, or anything else. I swear.”

Tim dropped his hands and blinked up at Armie. “You’re not?”

“No. I’m upset with _me_ , because you offered me something, and I took from you more than you had agreed to give. That’s...unforgivable.”

Tim’s brows drew together. “What did you take?”

“We had agreed on the parameters. Just a little taste of bondage. And then I took you too far.”

“No,” Timmy said. “You did exactly what I asked you to do. Every step of the way.”

“I took you too far,” Armie insisted. “You fell straight into subspace, and I hadn’t prepared you for that.”

Tim’s mouth formed a round _o_ and his eyes widened so that the whites showed all the way around his irises. “Wait,” he said, his tone shifting from argument into curiosity, “Is that what that was?”

“That’s what that was,” Armie said. “That sort of...floaty, detached feeling?”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “It was kind of — it was mind-blowing, is what it was. I felt like everything was too much and not enough all at once.”

“So you enjoyed it?” Armie asked. Maybe things weren’t as bad as he had thought. One side of his mouth lifted up as he thought back to the moment he had realized Tim had gone under, the way he had _looked_ , all pliant and flushed and —

“I did,” Tim said. His eyes darted around a moment before landing on his feet. There was that flush again. “It was a little weird I guess. But…” He trailed off and shrugged.

“See, we need to talk about this,” Armie said. “You need to process. It’s a part of the whole...thing. Can we sit and you can tell me what you thought? Of the experience? Now that you know I’m not upset with you?” And now that Armie knew Tim wasn’t upset with _him_. Even if he _should_ be, and might be, once they hashed it out.

Tim nodded and they settled back at the table. “Once I stopped being nervous, it was...good,” Tim said. “Weird at first, but I liked knowing that I couldn’t...screw up.” He let out a laugh. “Like it wasn’t up to me so I didn’t have to decide what to do and worry that I was doing it wrong.”

Armie nodded. “I get that,” he said. “You really seemed to settle down once you gave in to it.”

“I can’t explain it,” Tim said. “I just felt like...suddenly so calm. And knowing that you were the one who was making the decisions, it was easy to just let go.” Tim traced imaginary lines on the table with one finger. “I am sorry I lost control, though, afterwards. If that made you uncomfortable or—”

“It didn’t, I promise you,” Armie said quickly. “You had a completely normal reaction to something that a lot of people — me included — find to be erotic. Stimulating. I don’t want you to be ashamed of that.”

Tim licked his lips. “Okay,” he said. “It’s just that we’re not...I wasn’t supposed to get that way with you, we talked about it and you made it clear it wasn’t...that. And I don’t want you to be afraid that I’m going to _jump_ you or something now, and stop hanging out with me because of it. It was just the situation, I swear. I was feeling so much, and maybe that was just the only way I could think to let it out. I don’t _actually_ want...you know.”

There it was. Armie had known it, intellectually, but hearing Timmy say it, out loud, was like a door slamming, echoing inside of him with its finality. What had happened the night before wasn’t about anything that Tim wanted. It was _just the situation_. The subspace. And any other glimmers Armie had thought he saw over the past two days was the same. _Just the situation_.

He needed to remember that, deal with it, and move on.

“That sounds about right,” Armie confirmed. “It’s also why I put a stop to things. We hadn’t agreed on anything beyond just the bondage, and I knew you weren’t in a state to think clearly about what you wanted. If I had said yes at that point, I...would have been taking advantage of you. Even more than I already had.”

“I don’t feel like you took advantage. I just don’t want you to feel weird around me now and think I’m taking things to mean something more than...I mean, I’d understand if you wanted to cool it on the public displays of affection.” Tim fixed his eyes on his hand. He was tapping his fingers on the table, a nervous percussion that triggered Armie’s need to comfort.

He reached out and laid his hand on top of Tim’s, wanting a point of physical contact. “Is this okay?” he asked.

Tim glanced at him in surprise. “Yeah.” He automatically flipped his hand over and curled his fingers around Armie’s.

“Look, it’s true that I definitely didn’t expect you to hit subspace so fast last night, and was a little unprepared for the effect it had on both of us. If you say it wasn’t too much, and that you enjoyed it, I’ll trust that you’re telling me the truth.” Armie swallowed, wanting to get this next point out clearly. “And I was honored that you trusted me enough to reach that state, so thank you.”

There was no answer, but Tim’s hand twitched in his.

“And as far as the rest, I mean it when I said you didn’t do anything wrong. At least as far as I’m concerned. We said no boundaries, right?”

Tim fidgeted in his seat, and Armie squeezed his hand once, pleased when Tim settled down again. “Right, but that was...out in public. That didn’t mean when we were behind closed doors, and it was just us. I didn’t mean to blur the lines like that.”

“Honestly, I don’t mind,” Armie said. “It’s not like it’s the first time things got a little blurry for us. Back when we were filming, we had trouble with that too, remember?”

“Back in Crema.” Tim smiled slightly and blushed again. “We did have trouble with that.”

“And we agreed back then that we weren’t going to beat ourselves up over the fact that we were attracted to each other, and not just playing our roles. We used it, and it worked out just fine. It didn’t make things weird, right?” Armie carefully sidestepped thinking too hard about the specifics of Crema, and made his tone as light as possible. “No big deal.”

“That’s true,” Tim said. “And I guess...we did say we’re playing a role now. It sort of makes sense that it might get blurred again, especially if we’re still — wait, _are_ you still attracted to me?” Tim blinked up at him, and Armie froze.

_Fuck._ Okay, he could walk this tightrope. Tim was embarrassed he had expressed desire last night. To make him more comfortable, Armie needed to be clear that he felt it, too. That way, they were back on an even playing field.

He smiled. “What do you think?” he said, laughing. “Jesus, Tim, if I wasn’t, I’d be worried I was dead.”

“Oh.” Tim grinned. “Well, then...okay. So no big deal. Business as usual. Same as back in Crema. We can admit we’re attracted to each other but shouldn’t act on it, and just —”

“Well, there’s one difference,” Armie said, without thinking. Even as he spoke, he was screaming at himself _what are you doing you asshole_ but he just kept talking, the relief and warmth he felt at knowing he wasn’t the only one affected overwhelming his greater rational sense. “Back then I was married, so acting on it would have been wrong. Now, I’m not.”

_Triple fuck. Why did you say that?_ He wanted to take himself out back and punch himself in the face. The only reason to say something like that would be to suggest they throw caution to the wind and—

“Well, technically, but when you go back home, you’ll be back with Elizabeth.” Tim pulled his hand back, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

“What are you talking about?” Armie asked.

“I heard you before. On the phone. It sounded like you guys were regretting finalizing the divorce.”

“No, we…” Armie thought back to the conversation, tried to imagine what Tim was talking about. “We don’t. The divorce is done. Final. I’m not with her anymore, in any sense.”

“But you said you were going to undo it. And you talked about...Monday. When you get back.”

“Tim, I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about...oh.” Realization hit him, and he smiled. “I was talking to Harper. About Monday. And I meant undo this dance class we put her in. Not the divorce.”

“You mean when you said...you were talking to  _Harper_? That makes...so much more sense.” They stared at each other, and then Tim started laughing. After a moment, Armie joined in. it felt good to laugh. He jumped up from his seat.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ve wasted enough fucking time today being unhappy. Let’s just put this aside and enjoy the yacht. That jacuzzi is calling my name.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Tim said.

“I got you covered.” Armie waived away the protest. “I brought everything we might need.”

Tim got to his feet. “Then let’s do it,” he said. “Or we could just go in naked.” When Armie’s breath caught, Tim shoved him. “I’m kidding, you asshole. Or maybe I’m not. You’ll never know for sure.”

He bounced by Armie, headed for the lounge and where Armie had dropped the bag. Before he could overthink it, Armie’s hand shot out and he grabbed Tim’s shirt, hauling him close.

“Be careful what you joke about,” Armie said. “Considering what we just discussed.”

Tim looked up at him, their faces inches apart, his pupils expanding rapidly. Then he surged up and kissed Armie hard.

Armie let him, desire sparking across all of his nerves. He shifted his grip to Tim’s hips and pulled him closer.

When they broke apart, Tim sighed. “Thank god,” he said. “I was scared I wasn’t going to ever get to do that again.”

Then he darted off, disappearing into the lounge with a giggle.

Armie gave himself a moment, trying to find steady ground to stand on. Had Tim just given him permission to act on what he felt? Had he just given _Tim_ permission to do the same?

Tim was attracted to him. _Wanted_ to be physical with him. What he had said before, about not wanting it...had been Tim covering. Saving face. And now he knew that Armie felt the same.

That door that had slammed closed just a short while ago creaked open once more.

Could he do this? Other people had “friends with benefits.” Could mess around and not complicate it with anything more than fulfillment of mutual desire. He had done it himself on occasion, a long time ago.

He was pretty sure that if he allowed this to happen between them, that he was dealing himself an even more difficult hand than he was already attempting to play. Once he let himself have Tim in the way he wanted him, physically, was he going to be able to keep everything else at bay?

With a shake of his head, he followed Tim into the lounge. Even though he knew it was likely to cause him a slow, agonizing death, he was going to ride this current and let himself be dashed against the rocks at the end.  



	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last...
> 
> Thanks to my people who talked me through this when I hit a wall. You know who you are and I love you dearly.
> 
> 100% Fiction. Probably.

Art by Blueishdesire.

* * *

 

By the time Armie pushed open the door to the yacht’s lounge, his lips still feeling the ghost of the pressure of Tim’s against them, he was practically vibrating with anticipation. 

On the one hand, he could still feel the urge to resist and hesitate, the indecision choir singing three verses of _this is a mistake_ and a rousing chorus of _you’ll only regret it_ in the back of his mind. He could _tell_ himself that he’d be able to have this, for now, and then go back to not having it. He could tell himself he’d be able to keep from letting the weight of what he felt for Tim knock him on his ass and just enjoy what he was being given.

He’d be lying. 

On the other hand, he was tired of living in this limbo, this prison of _wanting_ but never able to have. It had been years now that he had teetered on this tightrope, taking what comfort he could in Tim’s friendship and their admittedly unusual closeness and trying to ignore the underlying pain of not having what he truly desired. 

He was deep in thought when he stepped over the threshold and was immediately hit in the face with his swim trunks. 

“Suit up, Hammer. I want to test out that jacuzzi.” Tim’s grin was infectious, and, despite his nerves, Armie found himself helplessly grinning back. 

The difference between Tim’s demeanor as he shimmied into his own swim trunks and the way he had been acting earlier was astounding. Armie found himself staring — this time not because he was trying to get an eye full of Tim as he changed, but because when Tim was like this, he embodied light and joy like no one else Armie had ever seen, and it was impossible to look away. 

Tim was chattering on at top speed, seeming to be trying to make up for lost time. 

“We should make more of those drinks, I think I know how. Or see if they have champagne or something. I bet they do. Go look over the bar. And I’m hungry, I didn’t have breakfast. When did she say lunch was? I wonder what it is. After lunch I bet we could get the Captain to drop anchor and we could go swimming. I’ve never been swimming off the side of a yacht before, have you? Of course you have, what am I thinking—“

Tim slid his trunks up over his ass and then turned to see Armie grinning at him. He stopped mid-sentence, a self-conscious smile curling his mouth up on one side. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Nothing.” Armie shook his head, and then the next words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “It’s a relief to see you looking happy again. I like it when you’re happy.”

Tim’s face lit up. “Oh,” he said. “And here I was thinking you were just checking out my ass.”

Armie laughed, feeling some of his tightly knotted nerves loosen inside him. “Maybe I was doing that, too,” he said. “You said something about champagne? See if there is any.”

Tim danced over to the bar and began to rummage behind it while Armie slipped into his trunks. He could feel Tim’s eyes on him as he slid the green material up his thighs. The idea that Tim was looking at him, too, sent shivers down his spine.

He took a moment to sit with the idea that, whatever this was _not_ — not a relationship, not true love, not happily ever after — the truth of the matter was that _Tim wanted him_. Excitement crackled over his skin and the indecision choir in his head fell blessedly silent. 

Tim was happy, and that was all he really cared about,  after all. He would do whatever Tim wanted as long as it kept making Tim smile. At the moment, what Tim wanted was to use the jacuzzi, and get a little tipsy, and Armie could make both of those things happen. Beyond that...he’d wait and see. Let Tim set the pace. 

Tim reappeared by his side with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “Grab the sunscreen, would you?” he asked. Armie did as he was told and followed Tim back out to the deck.

“I better reapply,” Tim said, setting the champagne and glasses by the side of the jacuzzi. “Sunscreen. I don’t want to burn up.”

“Good idea,” Armie said. He held out the sunscreen but Tim didn’t take it. Instead he glanced up at Armie, then hunched his shoulders and ducked his head. “What’s the matter?” Armie asked. 

“It’s just that thought — you’d maybe…” Tim peeked at him through a mess of curls. “You want to help?”

Help. As in, Tim was inviting him to touch, and put his hands on that smooth skin. 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I can do that. Um...turn around.” He’d start with Tim’s back, that was safe. And then, if Tim wanted more...

Armie had spread sunscreen on Tim’s back multiple times since they had arrived on the island, but it was something that was never going to get old. He slicked the lotion across Tim’s shoulders and down his arms, ran his hands back up, around Tim’s shoulder blades and then down his spine. Biting the inside of his lip and half-expecting Tim to jump away, he tucked his fingers underneath the hem of Tim’s trunks and skimmed his knuckles along the swell of his ass. Tim’s breath hitched. Armie smiled. 

“Just want to make sure I get every inch,” he murmured. 

“Mmm, good idea. There’s a lot more left,” Tim said, “that you haven’t...gotten to yet.”

He squeezed some more onto his palms and began again at Tim’s waist, spreading the lotion up his sides and back down. With only a brief hesitation, he shifted forward, sliding his hands around to Tim’s stomach, palms stroking in a circle around his belly button. Tim’s breath quickened. 

“You want to do this part yourself?” he asked quietly. 

“No,” Tim said, his voice shaky. “You better keep going. You seem to know what you’re doing.”

That was all the encouragement Armie needed to close the distance between them, pressing his chest against Tim’s back. He swept his hands up Tim’s chest, and when he massaged the lotion into Tim’s pecs, Tim leaned back against him. 

“Good?” Armie asked. 

“Yeah,” Tim said. “But I’m not sure I’m covered yet. Make sure you’re thorough.”

Armie closed his eyes at Tim’s request, and continued to work the lotion up to his neck. He smoothed it into his collarbone, relishing the way Tim melted further into him. He hesitated a moment on the way back down, his fingers a breath away from stroking Tim’s nipples. Tim stilled as if he knew was Armie was thinking. 

Was this too fast? Probably.

Unable to fully resist, he brushed his thumbs across the hard peaks once, drawing a gasp from Tim, and then stepped back. 

“Should be good for now,” he said, his voice rough. “But...I might need to do that again later.”

Tim turned and held out his hand. “Sunscreen, please,” he said, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Now it’s your turn.”

Armie handed over the tube and turned around. Goosebumps broke out in a wave across his back as he waited for Tim’s hands to make contact with his skin. 

Tim hummed. “Look at that,” he said. “You’re not cold, are you?” His fingers brushed across Armie’s shoulders, causing him to shiver for real. 

“No,” Armie said. “Not cold.”

He sighed once Tim began to apply the lotion. He took his time, first using just the tips of his long fingers to trace along Armie’s shoulder blades, along each of his ribs. He then used his palms and stroked long, slow lines up and down on either side of Armie’s spine. 

Armie sank into the sensations, allowing himself to fully enjoy the moment. Tim was touching him, with an intent that went beyond simple affection, and every sense he had focused on that alone. The heat of the Caribbean sun, the scent of the salt water, the motion of the boat beneath their feet, the sound of the waves...it all faded away. Instead he was overwhelmed with the coconutty scent of sunscreen mingled with that of Tim himself, the glide of Tim’s hands on his heated skin, the prickles of anticipation on his neck as he felt Tim move closer. 

He would gladly stop time here and be happy. 

When Tim removed his hands, and Armie heard the sound of the cap opening once more, he swallowed and his stomach tensed, expecting Tim to mirror his own movements and smooth his hands around from behind. He braced himself for it. 

Instead, Tim cleared his throat. “Turn around,” he said softly. 

Armie obeyed automatically, responding to the gentle command with ease. Tim’s hands, full of sunscreen chilled from the air conditioning in the lounge, were suddenly on his abdomen. He gasped. “Now that _is_ cold,” he said. 

“Sorry.” Tim smeared the lotion up his sternum, his gaze locking onto Armie’s and his lips parted slightly. Armie expected him to massage his chest, but instead, his hands continued straight up. Without pausing, Tim stepped close, sliding one sunscreen-covered hand around the back of Armie’s neck and the other up his cheek. “Let me warm you up a little,” he murmured. 

Armie had a split second to pull in a breath before Tim’s lips were on his, cutting off any additional oxygen. The kiss was possessive and demanding, as Tim’s tongue wasted no time dipping into Armie’s mouth and withdrawing again, coaxing him to respond in kind. 

He didn’t know how long they kissed this time. He knew that he threaded his fingers through Tim’s hair, holding him in place and encouraging him to continue. He knew he could feel the line of Tim’s erection against his groin, so close to his own it was almost painful. He knew Tim had a hold of his face, fingers digging into his cheekbones and jaw like he was afraid Armie would try to slip away. 

When they finally broke apart, sucking in air, he was seeing stars. Tim gazed at him a long moment, and then burst out laughing. 

“What?” Armie asked. He could feel a blush rising in his cheeks. What had he done that was _funny_? Was Tim having second thoughts, realizing how ridiculous it would be for them to—

“I’m sorry,” Tim gasped. “The —- the _sunscreen._ ”

Armie just stared at him, and Tim shook his head, his laughter subsiding into a soft huff. He stepped loose again, raised his hands to Armie’s face. 

“I sort of forgot what I was in the middle of there. I didn't mean to get so carried away.” He began to push his fingers across Armie’s cheekbones and temples, and Armie suddenly realized that he was scooping gobs of sunscreen off of his skin. 

“I look like I’ve been hit in the face with a pie, don’t I?” he chuckled. The idea that Tim had gotten lost in a sudden urge to kiss him had him practically giddy, so much that he didn’t give a shit what had happened to the damned sunscreen. 

“A pie...or something,” Tim snickered. “Hang on, there’s some in the corner of your eye. Don’t blink.”

Armie held still as Tim removed as much of the lotion as possible and then gently massaged the remainder into his skin. 

“There,” he said, with a satisfied nod. He took a step back, letting his fingertips trail down Arnie’s chest and stomach, all the way down to the waistband of his swim trunks. 

Armie bit his lip, holding still, as Tim skimmed his fingers along the skin just over the trunks and then over the waistband itself. His cock jumped, already half hard and growing harder by the second. Tim had to see, had to know the reaction that he was causing. 

“Wait,” Armie heard himself say.

Tim snatched his hand back and looked up. His cheeks immediately flooded. 

“Sorry,” he said, backing away. “Shit, did I...I’m being too—“

“You’re not being too anything.” Armie reached out and grabbed Tim’s hand, preventing his further retreat. “I _want_ you to...but I think...I mean this is a big deal, to cross these lines. For me, anyway.” 

Armie paused, wondering if he was saying too much, revealing too much. If Tim suspected that Armie had feelings for him, it would probably scare him off. But Tim didn’t look scared, he looked disappointed. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t,” Armie said. “Or that i don’t want to. Just that we should be clear that we both _do_ want to.”

Tim licked over his lower lip, and then sucked it between his teeth. “I...do,” he said, finally. “Like, a lot. This whole weekend, it’s practically all I’ve been thinking about.”

At Tim’s confession, Armie felt the world tilt on its axis. Tim had been thinking about being with him. For the entire weekend. Had been wanting to touch him the way he had been wanting to be touched. 

“Well,” he said. “Okay, then. You should know...me too.”

Tim laughed, and the sound was like magic salve for anything that may have been aching inside Armie. He tugged on Armie’s hand. “Come on, the jacuzzi is waiting. How do you work the bubbles on this thing?” Tim dipped a toe into the jacuzzi and glanced back at Armie, giving him a shy smile. 

“Um…” Armie glanced around. “The controls must be around here somewhere. You get in and pour the champagne, I’ll figure it out.”

He took the opportunity of a little distance to get himself back under control. He tried not to fixate on the way Tim had felt pressed against him, the fond look on his face as he had fixed the sunscreen. Tim unleashed was something else, and it was going to take everything Armie had to keep his head and remember that this was just for fun. That Tim wasn’t looking for declarations of love.

The timer and temperature control were in a panel next to the lounge door, and Armie adjusted them quickly once he found them. He heard Tim’s _whoop_ of joy once the bubbles started, and grinned. 

Well, it was definitely _fun_. Even if it wasn’t _just_ that for him. 

He slid into the water, letting out a groan at the way the warmth seeped into his muscles. Tim was at his side in a moment, guiding him to sit on the ledge right in front of one of the jets so that it gently thudded against his lower back.

“Good?” Tim asked.

“Good,” Armie said. 

Tim scooted forward and tucked his legs up so that he was straddling Armie. “Now,” he said, “where were we? Oh, right, I was doing this…” He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Armie’s lips. “And also this…”

He shifted forward so that his hips rocked into Armie’s, bringing their still hard cocks into contact for the first time.

“Fuck,” Armie whispered. His hands came up and cupped Tim’s ass, pulling him in even closer.

Tim gasped and then closed his mouth over Armie’s again. It was torture, the way Tim was rolling his hips slowly — so fucking slowly — as his tongue tangled with Armie’s. But it was a torture Armie welcomed. He moaned into Tim’s mouth at a particularly long, hard roll, and Tim whimpered in response.

He pulled away then, blinking at Armie with a look that was filled with wonder. 

“What?” Armie asked.

“Nothing. I...nothing.” Tim kissed Armie again, this time trailing his hand down Armie’s chest and stomach, dancing his fingers around Armie’s belly button. “Can I…”

“Yeah,” Armie said breathlessly. “Yeah, you can.”

Tim wasted no time then, plunging his hand into Armie’s swim trunks and finding his cock. Armie let out a strangled groan as Tim’s fingers wrapped around him.

“Shit.” Tim leaned his forehead against Armie’s shoulder. “Armie, you…”

He stroked up and down slowly, and Armie tipped his head back, overwhelmed by the sensation of finally — _finally_ — having Tim’s hand on him. After a minute, he managed to slide his hand around and under the waistband of Tim’s trunks as well. Tim whimpered at the first brush of Armie’s fingers against him.

They worked each other in tandem, breathing heavily. Tim tipped his head up and captured Armie’s lips again, and they hit a rhythm — up, kiss, twist, kiss, down, kiss, breathe — and so on, until Armie felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

Suddenly, Tim stopped. He pulled his hand out and pushed away from Armie, floating backwards in the jacuzzi. Armie grabbed for him and missed.

“What...Tim? Are you — was that —” _Fuck_ , Armie thought. He had gone too far.

Tim was panting, and he shook his head. “That was amazing,” he said. “But I don’t want the first time I come with you to be like this.”

“You...don’t?” Armie gripped the ledge he was sitting on, trying to regain control. “What do you want?”

Tim moved back towards Armie, until he was sitting beside him. “I want...to be in our villa. In bed. I want to come with you inside me.” When he looked up at Armie, his eyes were shining. “If that’s something that you want, I mean.”

It took Armie a few seconds to find his voice. “I want that too,” he said.

Tim smiled at him, then leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I want you to take me back there, and put your hands and mouth on me until neither of us can take it any longer. And then I want to feel you in me—”

“Jesus, Timmy.” Armie clapped a hand over Tim’s mouth. “You can’t fucking talk like that if you want me to wait until tonight.” He took his hand away cautiously.

“Yeah?” Tim said. “That turns you on?”

“You know, there are beds right here on this boat—”

Tim shook his head. “Nope. Because once we start, I don’t want to stop.”

Armie swallowed hard. Tim was trying to kill him. He was sure of that now.

He moved a foot away then, and they kept a slight distance between them, only allowing their feet to tangle together beneath the surface of the  water. Armie had been momentarily sure that he would feel awkward, that their conversation would stall, that this shift in their relationship from platonic to physical would have an immediate chilling effect on everything else. 

He needn’t have worried. As usual, once they got started it seemed like there was so much to talk about they’d never run out. They argued about the value of fashion ( _“Armie, you can’t tell me you don’t see the difference between a Haider suit and something from, like, Brooks Brothers.” “Of course. But there is absolutely no fucking reason for a pair of socks to cost forty-eight dollars.”_ ) and the best flavor of snow cones ( _blue vs. cherry_ ) and whether the Yankees relied on their historical record to maintain an aura of greatness ( _“Yes they do, they’re nowhere as good as they used to be.” “You’re dead to me.”_ ).

By the time lunch was served, they were comfortably laughing over a story Armie told about Ford that Tim claimed could not be true in any way shape or form. Which was why it took Armie by surprise when Tim leaned in and kissed him — a quick peck on the lips — as he climbed out of the pool. 

The drive-by kiss was such a casual, familiar gesture, one that spoke of a lengthy physical relationship, that it stole Armie’s breath. For a moment, as Tim grabbed up a towel and greeted Gwen, he could _see_ what it would be like to be in that relationship. To know, with quiet confidence, that your touch and your affection was wanted and reciprocated. It was so tangible he could almost reach out and grasp it. 

Then Tim turned back to him and, and a giddy voice said “Dude, get out here, you have got to see the spread,” and he was brought back to reality. 

Temporary. This was temporary. The pain in his chest was sharp and quick. 

He ignored it, put on a smile, and joined Tim at the table laden with food.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why was he suddenly feeling so _nervous_? They were just going to dinner. That’s all it was, a meal. They had had hundreds of meals together during their friendship. Plenty on this trip alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! I’m not sure why this has been such a struggle, but here we are. Thank you for being patient! 
> 
> This chapter is a bit short, but I decided to cut it in half so that I could give it to you now. The next one is about a third written, and I am still writing, so stay tuned. 
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.

_Art by blueishdesire_

* * *

 

“Tim.” Armie knocked on the bathroom door and glanced at his watch. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

He paced the length of the villa and back. Why was he suddenly feeling so _nervous_? They were just going to dinner. That’s all it was, a meal. They had had hundreds of meals together during their friendship. Plenty on this trip alone. 

It was just dinner. Except, that wasn’t really true. This was _the_ dinner. The last thing they would do before they planned to come back to the villa and…

Well, Armie wasn’t completely sure how things would play out, but he had a pretty damned vivid idea, since they had spent the entire afternoon torturing each other with it.

* * *

After lunch, they had made their way up to the topmost deck, armed with books, to lay out in the sun. They settled side by side on the mats and were quiet for a while, enjoying the warmth from the sun, the gentle rocking of the boat beneath them, the sounds of the ocean. 

After a while, Tim shifted so that he was lying perpendicular to Armie and rested his head on Armie’s stomach. 

“What are you doing?” Armie asked, laughing. Tim’s head bobbed up and down with the motion of his muscles, and that made him laugh harder. Timmy joined in.

“I’m getting comfortable,” Tim said. He swiveled his head to look up at Armie, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Problem?”

“No,” Armie said. Curls tickled his belly button as Tim faced up once again. He raised his book and began reading. Armie did the same.

A few minutes passed, and then Tim shifted onto his side, facing away from Armie. Without thinking, Armie reached down and stroked his hand through Tim’s hair, scratching at his scalp. Tim wriggled a little and then relaxed, sighing happily. Armie continued to pet Tim’s hair, eventually settling his hand at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Tim set his book aside.

Armie thought he might be taking a nap, and tried not to move. But then he felt a cool hand on his thigh, just where his swim trunks ended. The hand swept down to his knee, and then back up, repeating the motion several times. On the last pass, the hand continued up, over his shorts, and came to rest near his groin.

Swallowing quietly, Armie held his breath. What was Timmy doing? Armie’s cock stirred at the proximity of Tim’s hand, and he thought for sure Tim would be able to see it from his vantage point.

Another few minutes ticked by, and then Tim’s hand was on the move again. It traveled up and over the waistband of Armie’s trunks, slid along his belly, and then dipped inside.

Armie gasped. “Tim,” he said, “what—”

“Shhhh.” Tim hushed him gently, and then his hand closed around Armie’s cock. He began to stroke it lightly, and then more firmly as he hardened under the attentions. Armie breathed heavily, trying to hold his hips still and not buck up into Tim’s hand.

“I thought — ah, _fuck_ — I thought you wanted to wait,” Armie said, from behind clenched teeth.

“I do. But...I just want to see.” Tim rolled onto his stomach and looked up at Armie through long lashes. “Can I?

Armie felt a rush of air as Tim lifted his waistband and pulled it down without waiting for an answer. He watched as Tim’s mouth parted, watched him suck in a breath, watched him lick his lips, leaving them wet and shiny. Armie held himself rigid, afraid that if he allowed himself to move at all, they were done for. 

Tim scooted a few inches closer, and then, before Armie could protest, his lips closed around the head of Armie’s cock. His tongue flicked out and lapped at precome and they both moaned.

“Timmy,” Armie said, “you have to stop. I’m not...I’m gonna—”

Tim ignored him and lifted his head, shifting onto his knees. He sank onto Armie’s cock, his lips sliding down his length and stretching around his girth, using his hand where his mouth didn’t reach.

_I can’t believe this is happening,_ was the thought that floated through Armie’s head before all thoughts fled and he began to moan freely. “Fuck,” he said. “Tim, I’m not kidding. I can’t...I’m not going to last with you looking like — fuck.”

Tim pulled off with one long, hard suck, then licked around the head. He pulled his hand away and sat back. When he turned to look at Armie, he had a smug, satisfied smile on his face.

“I’ve been dreaming about what you tasted like,” he said. “And you were right there. How was I supposed to resist?” His smile faltered a second. “I needed to know. Just in case you change your mind. About…”

The haze of arousal still clouding his vision and muddling up his senses, Armie let out a whimper as the first part of Timmy’s statements registered. His cock jerked again, and another stream of precome escaped.

But then the second half creeped its way in, and Armie blinked and shook his head, trying to clear it. “Hang on. What did you say?”

“That I wanted to know what you—“

“I got that part. The second part. You're worried I’m going to change my mind?” Armie propped himself up on one elbow and stared at Tim, who shrugged one shoulder and smiled. 

“It’s okay if you do—“

“I won’t.”

“You...won’t?”

“No.” He felt a wry smile creep across his face. “Timmy, I am this close—” he held up his thumb and forefinger, “—to tackling you onto this deck and eating you out until you—”

“Okay, okay, shit,” Tim said, eyes wide. He hurriedly — and not too carefully — tucked Armie back into his shorts. “Sorry.”

He didn’t look sorry. He looked like he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

“Come here,” Armie said, holding out a hand. Tim moved to his side instantly, and Armie closed his mouth over Tim’s in a salty kiss. “You’re a menace,” he murmured.

Tim snuggled close and hummed. “Only about some things,” he said. “Hey, you really want to do that?”

“Do what?” Armie asked. He took a few deep breaths, trying to get himself back under control.

“Eat me out,” Tim said. “You really want that?”

Armie closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed with the idea. It had just popped out of his mouth, but... _yes_. He definitely wanted that, but would it scare Tim? Would he balk at the idea and change his mind if he thought Armie was too eager? Would it make him suspect that Armie had been thinking forever about exactly what he would do with full access to touch and taste?

But when he opened his eyes, Tim was still tucked up against his side, hand on his chest, watching him, his features open and vulnerable. He didn’t look like someone who was scared or skittish. Armie decided on the truth...or part of it, anyway. 

“Not only do I _want_ ,” Armie said, “I plan to. Tonight. Among other things, if you’ll let me.”

Tim shivered. “You can do whatever you want to me,” he said, his voice low and husky.

Armie had then insisted they leave the deck and go swimming for a while. Something they could do together without touching.

Back on the shore, Tim pulled Armie toward the main building of the resort and its row of shops.

“You want to go shopping?" Armie asked incredulously. “I don’t think there’s anything here but overpriced resortwear and tacky souvenirs.”

“Look,” Tim said, “we’ve got at least two hours until dinner. We can’t go back to the room until then because...well, you know why. We need to occupy ourselves.”

Realizing Tim had a point, he let Tim lead the way into a shop full of overpriced magnets, keychains, ceramic fish, and shell necklaces. They poked at everything, laughed at most of it, and wandered out a half hour later with a bag full of merchandise that was no doubt going to end up gathering dust somewhere.

The next store was souvenir resort wear. They rifled through hats and t-shirts and swimsuits, flip-flops and polo shirts and shorts. Armie took photos as Tim tried on a pair of giant sunglasses and struck a pose. The air conditioning was on full blast, and Tim complained that he was cold. Armie snagged a blue sweater emblazoned with the Isla Deseo logo. He tossed it at Tim.

Then he had an idea. 

“Changing rooms over there,” he said. “Better try that on.”

“I can try it on out here,” Tim said. He started to thread his arms through the sleeves, and Armie reached out a hand to stop him.

“You should try it on in the changing rooms,” he said. “Come on.” 

He grabbed Tim’s hand and led him across the shop to the row of tiny rooms along the back wall. With a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, he opened the door to the one in the corner and pushed Tim inside, following on his heels.

“Hey,” Tim laughed. What are you doing? There’s not really room—“

Armie pushed him up against the mirror and kissed him into silence. He placed his palms on either side of Tim’s head and lined his entire body up against Tim’s, relishing the feel of it, and marveling in the fact that he was allowed to. The sweater fell to the ground beside them and Tim pushed his fingers into Armie’s hair, pulling him closer. 

They broke apart a few minutes later, panting. Tim licked his lips and moved in again, but Armie pulled back. 

“What?” Tim pouted. “Where are you going?”

Armie smirked and sank to his knees. He gripped Tim’s hips firmly, keeping him pressed against the mirror. When he looked up, Tim was staring down at him, eyes dark and wide, mouth hanging open. 

“My turn,” Armie said. He quickly unbuttoned Tim’s shorts and freed his stiff cock, giving himself a moment to take a long look, drinking in the sight he had been dreaming about for far too long. 

Before Tim could protest, Armie opened his mouth and swallowed Tim down. He bobbed up and down until Tim was slick enough to slide all the way to the back of his throat. Tim let out a muffled whimper above him, and he glanced up through his lashes to see that Tim had pressed a fist against his mouth. 

He smiled around Tim’s cock and set to work, using one hand to hold Tim still and the other to play with his balls. He heard a sharp _smack_ , and when he looked up again he saw that Tim had let his head fall back against the mirror. He now had both hands clapped over his mouth, and was letting out muffled groans. 

Armie pulled off slowly, knowing he couldn’t take this too much farther without getting them in trouble. He rose to his feet and pried Tim’s hands free, replacing them with his mouth. He licked into Tim’s mouth, tangled their tongues together, and swallowed one last moan. 

When he pulled away, he kissed Tim’s chin and then each of his cheeks. 

“I thought you were going to try that on,” he murmured, gesturing at the forgotten sweater. “But maybe you’re not cold anymore.”

Tim let out a hysterical, breathy laugh, beads of sweat on his brow. “No,” he managed. “Not cold.”

Armie reached for the door. “I’ll leave first, wait for you outside,” he said. Take a few minutes.” He grinned down at where Tim was still hanging out of his shorts. “Or longer, if you need it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Tim whispered, but he was smiling affectionately.

“Payback, sweetheart.” Armie winked, then slipped out the door of the changing room. 

He lingered in the shop another few minutes, bought Tim a pair of Isla Deseo socks, and then went outside to wait. 

Eventually, after making some more frivolous purchases — Armie bought a small mermaid purse for Harper and a stuffed jellyfish for Ford, Tim a set of sea glass bracelets for Nicole and Pauline — they strolled back to the villa. 

Tim took Armie’s hand as they walked, a gesture that was becoming so familiar it almost hurt. Especially now, with the new dimension they were exploring, the tiny displays of affection were enough to fool Armie’s heart. He struggled to maintain his walls, reminding himself with each step that none of this was real. 

By the time they reached the villa, he was almost glad to let go of Tim’s hand to unlock the door. 

“Can I shower first?” he asked. 

Tim looked surprised at the sudden request, but nodded. He moved away, seeming to sense that Armie’s mood had shifted. 

“I’ll hang out in the pool for a bit,” he said. “Take your time.”

Armie watched him go. He waited for the sliding door to close before he gathered up what he would need and went to shower. He lingered under the hot water, trying to relax and recapture the way he had felt on the yacht and while shopping, that mixture of delight, wonder, and excitement that he could actually have this, as temporary as it was.

By the time he finished styling his hair, he felt better. He glanced at his watch and hurried to put on his clothes so Tim could take his turn. When he opened the door to the bathroom, Tim was slouched on the sofa under a throw blanket, flipping through channels. He looked up when Armie entered the room. 

“You took forever,” he began, and then he stopped, smiling. 

“What?” Armie asked. He looked down, brushing at his pants and shirt. His fly was zipped, everything looked in order. 

Tim stood, tossing the blanket aside and shaking his head. “Nothing. You look good.”

“Oh.” Armie felt the blush rising on his cheeks. _Tim liked the way he looked._ “Thanks.”

Stopping a few feet away, Tim looked him over. “Are you going to wear a jacket with that? A tie?”

Armie hesitated. He had planned to, but maybe it was overkill. “I was thinking about it,” he said. “The restaurant doesn’t require it but…”

“But it’s our last dinner here. Let’s go out with a bang, I get it.” Tim tilted his head to the side, his curls tumbling down. He got a far-off look in his eye and then spoke again. “I’ll get dressed up too. I brought something. It’ll be like...when we did the red carpets.”

Something shattered and then rebuilt itself inside Armie’s chest. Thinking back to that time was always painful...to have been so close to Tim, to be able to act on his need for familiarity and intimacy, to have permission to do that for the good of the film, it was a thrilling time...but to have what he truly wanted be so far from reality made it hurt all the more. And yet, he longed for it again all the same. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good. You’d better get going, though, I’m sorry I took so long.”

Tim stared at him a moment, then was in motion. He closed the distance between them and reached up to place a chaste kiss on Armie’s cheek. Armie turned at the last second, bringing their lips together instead, and Tim responded by shifting naturally into his arms for a longer, deeper kiss. 

After a minute, he sighed and pulled away.

“Okay,” he said. “I won’t be long.” He disappeared into the bathroom with an armful of clothes. 

* * *

That brought them to Armie knocking on the door and checking his watch. 

“I’m almost ready,” came Tim’s reply. “Go outside and wait.”

Outside? Armie frowned at the bathroom door. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Just do it. Go outside, wait at the door.”

Puzzled, Armie picked up his things and, with one last glance at the bathroom, he exited the room, closing the door behind him. 

He looked out at the manicured pathways lined with brightly colored flowers. A golden hue lit the area as the sun sat low in the sky. A tiny yellow lizard skittered across the path near the door, bringing a smile to his face. When he was a kid, he’d chase them and catch them, letting them run all over his arms, chest, and back. He’d like to show Tim that, see his eyes light up at their antics. 

The evening seemed quiet. It was nearly seven. People were probably at dinner, or sleeping off their afternoons in the sun. Armie felt a calmness settle over him. He wondered why he had been feeling nervous. It was just dinner. 

The door opened behind him, and he turned around. Tim stood in the doorway, dressed in a textured blue suit with a grey shirt and tie. He grinned. 

“You’re right on time,” he said. 

Armie grinned back. He couldn’t help it. “On time for what?” he asked. 

“Our date,” Tim said. He stepped outside, closed the door behind him, and then reached up to kiss Armie on the cheek. “Sorry I was running behind and you had to wait.”

Armie stared at Tim. “Our date?”

“Yeah,” Tim said. He slipped his hand in Armie’s. “I _will_ sleep with you on the first date, but not before. What kind of a guy do you think I am?”

Armie noticed that Tim’s upper lip was trembling. He was nervous too, Armie realized. Probably wondering if Armie would think his little game was dumb. 

Did Armie want to play this game? Go on a pretend date with Tim before spending the night with him? Well, he thought, he’d been pretend dating Tim in public all weekend. This wouldn’t really change anything. 

And yet it felt different, somehow. Like the stakes were higher. 

But really, how could he fuck it up? Tim was asking him to play along, he could do that for Tim. Had _been_ doing that for Tim. Would always do that for Tim. He tucked a stray curl behind Tim’s ear and smiled. 

“You look amazing,” he said. “The wait was worth it.” 

Tim flushed pink and ducked his head, and Armie instinctively reached out and tipped his chin up with a crooked finger. He leaned in and kissed him softly. 

“Let’s go,” he said. “I made reservations.”

He squeezed Tim’s hand, and they set off down the path. As they walked, he told Tim about the lizards. Tim laughed and confessed that he used to catch frogs when he was in France for the summer with his family, and that he sometimes imagined teaching Harper and Ford how to catch them as well. 

When Armie heard that, his heart stuttered and he could see it, them sitting on a stone patio and watching the kids hunting frogs in the reeds. Harper would take charge of the hunt, and Ford would wrest control of the care of the frogs once caught. Tim would rest his head on Armie’s shoulder and sigh happily, and Armie would feel like his entire world was complete. 

Even though that was a fantasy, Armie wasn’t nervous anymore. The night stretched ahead of them like a sea of possibilities, and he was going to take what Tim was offering for as long as he was allowed. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie had one thought that stole his breath — _holy shit I can’t believe I’m getting to do this_ — and decided to act before it all evaporated like some perfect dream upon waking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, here we are. This isn't the end, there are two more chapters (yes, I'm positive this time).
> 
> I know you've been waiting a long while for this. Thank you for being patient, and I hope it is what you hoped it would be.
> 
> I'm way behind on comments. I'll catch up, but in the meantime, please know I read and reread and cherish them all.
> 
> So much love to blueishdesire who I know is looking forward to this today particularly.
> 
> (Oh, and there's a special treat at the end compliments of Chalamazed.)

Art by blueishdesire

* * *

 

Dinner was easy. 

As they laughed over the simplest things and tasted each other’s food and tangled their feet together under the table, Armie couldn’t remember why he had ever been uneasy about anything at all. This was _them_ , pure and simple, and the fact that they had had each other’s dicks in their mouths that afternoon didn’t make anything feel any different than normal. 

Except for one tiny, insignificant, not-at-all important detail. Tim kept blushing. Armie offered him a piece of steak, and he blushed as he ate it off of Armie’s fork. He made Armie laugh particularly hard at something and then he blushed. While they waited for dessert, Armie slid a hand on top of his where it rested on the table, and he blushed. 

He turned Tim’s hand face-up, and began to trace lightly along the mounds and ridges of his palm, following the various lines — lifeline, heart line, he could never remember which was which — with the tips of his fingers. He played with the inside of Tim’s knuckles and the web between his thumb and forefinger. 

When he heard Tim suck in a breath, Armie ran his fingers down under the cuff of Tim’s jacket and moved them over the veins of his wrist, back and forth. He made a series of circles over his pulse point, feeling it race. 

He looked up and caught Tim watching him, eyes dark, lower lip caught between his teeth. He paused, desire pooling in his stomach. 

“I don’t think I want dessert after all,” he said. “Do you want to take it to go?”

“Yeah. Or just...cancel it,” Tim said in a strangled tone. He was already on his feet, and Armie let out a small laugh. 

Ten minutes later, they were stumbling down the path towards the villa. Stumbling because, no matter how many times he thought _just walk and you’ll get there faster, you asshole_ he was trying to kiss Tim at the same time, and kissing while walking was _hard_. 

“Mmph,” Tim said, as they tripped into a flower border. “Go that way.”

“What—“ _kiss,_ “—way?” Armie tried to ask. 

“That way.” Tim pushed him to the left, laughing into his mouth and toppling after him. 

Armie grabbed at Tim’s elbows and yanked him upright. He took two steps backwards, pulling Tim with him, and then let out a small _oof_ when he slammed into something. 

“Lamp post,” Tim muttered in explanation. He launched himself at Armie, wrapping his arms around his neck and diving into his mouth as he hiked one leg up over Armie’s hip. 

It was instinct for Armie to place his palms on Tim’s ass and squeeze, and he guessed it was equal instinct for Tim to press their hips together in a long, slow grind that made them both emit a choked groan.

Armie became dimly aware of the sound of one of the golf carts coming up the path. 

“Hold on,” he said. “Stop, we—” Tim muffled his instruction with another kiss.

He reluctantly pulled away from Tim’s mouth and dislodged Tim’s leg from his hip. He looked around and realized he could see their villa not far away. Tim gave him a wounded look, and he laughed.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing Tim’s hand, “we’re being ridiculous. The villa’s right over there.”

They managed to make it to their front door before Armie found himself pressed up against it and Tim climbing him once more. He fumbled for his key card, laughing, as Tim hung on his neck. The key card hit the reader and the door opened, and they tumbled inside. Tim kicked the door closed behind them and pushed Armie further into the room, shoving at his jacket as they moved. 

The jacket fell to the floor, long fingers unraveled his tie and began to unbutton his shirt, and Armie felt a thrill he had never before felt as Tim took control of the situation. Before he really knew what was happening, his shirt had followed the fate of the jacket and Tim’s hands were twisting in his hair. He was walked backward to the bed, and when his calves bumped up against it, one last shred of doubt worked its way free. 

“Wait, wait.” Armie dragged his lips away from Tim’s, earning him a small whine. He looked searchingly at Tim, taking in his glossy eyes, his flushed cheeks. “Hang on. I just want to — Tim, this is what you want? You want this? To be with me?”

“ _Yes,”_ Tim said. “More than anything. I swear.”

“I don’t want you to regret anything, so—“

“Armie.” Tim tightened his fists in Armie’s hair, and the momentary pain made him go silent. “For the last time, I. Want. You.” He punctuated each word with a soft kiss, gentle in comparison with the grip of his fingers. “I’ve been dying for this. Don’t make me wait any longer. _Please._ ”

He released Armie’s hair, and Armie released his last tenuous hold on reason and caution. With a low groan, he closed his mouth over Tim’s and took what he had wanted for so long. 

Now Armie took charge, pushing Tim’s jacket down his arms and pulling at his tie. Once the tie was free, he let out a growl of impatience and yanked at Tim’s shirt. There was a loud tearing sound, and Tim froze.

“Armie?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Armie went for Tim’s mouth again, and Tim dodged. 

“Did you just ruin a fourteen-hundred-dollar Gucci shirt?” Tim looked down at his shirt, which was indeed hanging off of one arm, rent down the side.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Armie said.

“It’s one of a kind.”

“I’ll _make_ you a new one.”

Tim stared at him, and then burst out laughing. “That I’d like to see, Hammer. I’ll borrow my mom’s sewing machine for you.”

“You think I can’t handle a little sewing? I have a daughter, and a son who is very interested in needlepoint. Done and done,” Armie said. He yanked the ruined shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it to the side.

Tim cupped his hand on Armie’s cheek and brushed his thumb across his lips. “They’re all puffy,” he whispered. “Did I do that?”

“Well, I don’t see anyone else here,” Armie said. 

“Hmmm.” Tim gave Armie a gentle push, and Armie let himself sink onto the bed. Tim straddled him, sliding his knees on either side of Armie’s hips. “Maybe I should give them a break.”

Then he latched onto Armie’s neck, licking and sucking his way along his collarbone. Armie let his head fall back, giving Tim full access. He slid his palms up Tim’s sides and back down over his ass, squeezing at his cheeks through his pants. 

Tim lifted his head from Armie’s neck to moan softly. With a grunt, he pushed Armie fully onto his back and began to explore his chest. Armie gasped as lips and tongue and teeth teased his nipples, as fingers tugged at his fine hair and danced in and out of his belly button before trailing a path south. 

“I want you naked,” Tim muttered. He looked up at Armie, peering through dark curls. “Can I get you naked?”

Armie nodded helplessly, and then closed his eyes as Tim went to work on his pants. Tim’s fingers slid against the fabric, brushing repeatedly against his hard length, and he swallowed desperately. 

“You too,” he managed, as his pants opened. “You. Naked too.”

“In a minute.” Tim pulled at Armie’s pants and boxers, and Armie lifted his hips off of the bed so Tim could slide them off. He stood at the end of the bed, looking down at Armie for a long moment. 

Armie shifted slightly under his gaze. “What are you doing?”

“I’m...looking,” Tim said. “Fuck.” His gaze flickered up to Armie’s face and his lips curled into a smile. “You’re so fucking hot, I can’t believe…”

Uncomfortable with the attention, Armie sat up. He pulled Tim into the space between his legs and hooked an arm around his neck, guiding him down for a kiss. 

“Your turn,” he said. He made quick work of Tim’s pants, and then gaped when they slithered down his hips to pool at his feet, revealing that Tim was wearing nothing underneath. “Holy shit,” he said, “you’ve been commando all night?”

Tim smirked at him, then climbed onto the bed. He pulled at Armie until they were both lying side by side, facing each other. 

“Hi,” Tim whispered, his face inches from Armie’s. 

Armie smiled. “Hi.”

They watched each other for a long minute, the urgency evaporating. Armie brought a hand up to slide through Tim’s soft curls, and then drifted along the edge of Tim’s ear, his jaw, and his chin before Tim dipped his head and kissed the tips of Armie’s fingers. 

He sucked the index finger into his mouth, and Armie felt it in his groin. He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan. Tim released the finger but continued to lick it, flicking his tongue out to touch his knuckle, his nail, the pad of his finger. 

“When you did that to me,” Tim said softly, “that first time, right after we got out of the taxi, I thought I was going to lose it right then and there.”

Armie thought back to that first afternoon at Isla Deseo, just after they had arrived. It seemed so long ago. He remembered feeling like he was taking advantage of Tim, going too far, but not able to help it. 

“Yeah?” Armie said. “Every time I touched you I was afraid I would scare you off. That you would stop talking to me. Think I was being weird.”

“I _wanted_ you to touch me,” Tim said. “But I thought...I was so worried I had fucked up with this trip. That you’d be so freaked out by pretending to be a couple that you wouldn’t want to be around me anymore.”

“That could never happen,” Armie said earnestly. “Look, just so we’re clear...this line we’re about to cross — that we’ve _been_ crossing all day — it changes nothing. You’re still my best friend. No matter what. Okay?”

It was vitally important to Armie that he communicate that, make clear to Tim that he wasn’t going to expect or take anything more than Tim was offering. 

Tim looked relieved. “Okay. Same.”

“Come here,” Armie pinched Tim’s chin with his fingers and pulled him in, finding his lips once more. The kiss started out slow and gentle, and then Tim moaned and it was like a switch was flipped. The energy began to crackle around them again and Armie knew he needed _more_. 

He shifted, pushing Tim onto his back and reaching for his hands. He laced their fingers together and then slid their hands up the mattress to the pillow. Pushing up, he hovered over Tim. 

Tim blinked at him, eyes glazed, lips parted and shiny, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly. He was like a painting of desire, and Armie wanted it all. 

Keeping Tim’s hands in place, he licked his way down Tim’s neck. Tim angled his head to the side with a whine, and Armie smiled against the soft skin, breathing in a scent that was entirely Timmy. He took deep breaths, as if he were trying to store lungfuls of Tim for leaner times to come. 

Armie kissed the hollow of Tim’s throat and then traveled south down his sternum. When he began to taste and tease Tim’s nipples, Tim strained against his hands. 

“Armie,” he whispered. “Let go, I need to touch you.”

“Not yet.” Armie squeezed Tim’s hands and spoke with his lips brushing a nipple. “Can you hang on a little longer for me? I’ll tell you when?”

Tim groaned but then relaxed, his hands going slack in Armie’s grip. Experimentally, Armie released him, and Tim’s hands remained on the pillow. They twitched as Armie began to stroke up and down his chest and sides, but didn’t move. 

Armie’s pulse skittered. If only Tim was really _his_ , they could explore this side of him. His gaze flickered to the blue box on the nightstand, the one containing the silk ropes. Not tonight, this first time, tonight was about just them. But in the future, if there was one…

He shut that thought off as soon as it began to flow through his head. _Danger_. There were no guarantees Tim would want this again. Or that, even if he did, they would decide it was a good idea. 

With a shake of his head, he refocused on the man under him. He kissed his way down to Tim’s stomach, loving the way it quivered beneath his touch. Tim let out a few high breathy sounds — half laughter, half moan — as Armie licked across Tim’s groin, careful to avoid touching his cock, which was bobbing near Armie’s cheek. 

He paused a moment, licking his lips and watching Tim. His eyes were closed, one of his hands had closed into a fist and was pressed against his forehead. He held himself rigid, as if waiting. 

Armie turned his head to the right and blew out a soft breath around Tim’s cock. Tim jumped. Armie thought about taking Tim in his mouth, but...he had made a different promise earlier and he wanted to keep it. 

He put his hands on Tim’s hip and gently rolled him into his stomach. Tim went willingly, but grabbed at the pillow and tossed a questioning look over his shoulder. Armie pushed Tim’s knees under him and his legs apart until Tim was kneeling on the bed, his ass in the air and his chest still flat on the mattress. 

“Armie?” Tim asked, a little breathless. 

With a smile, Armie slid down between Tim’s legs, took his ass in his hands and spread his cheeks. Tim whimpered as his pucker was exposed to the air. Armie had one thought that stole his breath — _holy shit I can’t believe I’m getting to do this_ — and decided to act before it all evaporated like some perfect dream upon waking. He leaned in and tapped at Tim’s hole with the tip of his tongue. 

Tim moaned. 

Taking that as assent, Armie swirled his tongue around the opening, setting up an erratic circular rhythm — slow, slow, fast, slow, slow, slow, fast, fast — until Timmy’s moans were just as erratic and desperate. Then he pushed his tongue into a point and dipped it inside.

“ _Fuck._ ” Tim bucked against Armie’s face, pushing him deeper. Armie dug his fingers into the flesh of Tim’s hips and held him still as he licked inside, searching. Tim's fists hit the pillow over and over, and he whimpered, muttering something unintelligible in a loop. 

When he found his mark, Tim cried out and pushed his hips back so hard Armie lost his purchase and staggered off the end of the bed. His tongue popped free, and he chuckled. 

“So that’s a yes, you liked that?” he asked, as he crawled back onto the bed. He flipped Tim onto his back and Tim immediately reached up and dragged him closer until he could fasten his mouth on Armie’s. He was mewling softly into the kiss, and his legs came up around Armie’s waist.

Finally, he let his head fall back on the pillows. 

“Jesus Christ,” Tim breathed. “Holy fuck. I nearly came. I need a second.”

Armie let his weight press Timmy further into the mattress, lining his cock up with Tim’s so they dragged deliciously against each other. Tim grunted. 

“What kind of a second?” Armie asked. He shifted his hips up and down slowly, and Tim gasped.  

“Okay,” he managed. “If you’re going to be like that, stop messing around and fuck me.”

Armie let his forehead fall into Tim’s neck with a groan. “Yeah?” 

Tim snuck a hand under Armie’s cheek and pushed him up so their eyes met. “Yes,” he said. “ _Please._ ”

Their lips met again, urgently. Then something occurred to Armie and he pulled away, his heart sinking. “Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t...I didn’t bring anything.”

“S’okay,” Tim mumbled, pulling him back down. “There’s stuff in the nightstand.”

“There is? Did you—“

“No!” Tim’s eyes widened, and he giggled. “I think it’s like...complimentary. Can you…”

“Yeah.” Armie rolled off of Tim and went for the nightstand drawer. Sure enough, single-serving sachets of lube and condoms, with the resort logo on the packaging, were stashed inside. “Convenient,” he muttered, grabbing what they needed and settling back into place between Tim’s thighs.

_This is really happening,_ he thought, staring down at Tim. The kid looked deliciously mussed, his hair sticking out all over, his chin and lips pink, his eyes dark and glossy. As Armie watched, Tim’s tongue darted out and skated along his lower lip. 

Armie had a sudden flashback to another night, one where the lights were out and they pretended to fumble with each other in the dark on two twin beds pushed together. A night where they acted like they were getting to know each other’s bodies for the first time as the cameras looked on and Armie tried not to lose himself in the fantasy. 

He flashed back further to evenings in his Crema accommodations, to the long, pleasurably painful hours of mapping out these scenes with Timmy. Figuring out just how their bodies fit together, worked in harmony, responded to one another. Where he had discovered that Tim stirred something in him that he’d never felt before. 

“What’s the matter?” Tim’s voice snapped Armie back to the present. Armie refocused to see Tim biting his lip, looking suddenly nervous. 

“Nothing,” Armie said. “I was just…”

He reached out and trailed his fingers along Tim’s chest and down to his stomach, watching the muscles quiver at his touch. 

“You were just?” Tim arched his back slightly as Armie’s hand traveled back up and danced across his left nipple. 

“I was thinking that this isn’t the first time I’ve touched you like this. But it _is_ the first time I’ve touched you like this.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not making sense. It sounded better in my head.”

“You were thinking about Crema?” Tim asked. 

“Yeah.” Armie cringed slightly inside, wondering if this is what would send Tim running. Knowing that Armie was connecting what had happened in Crema with what was happening now. 

But he just smiled, his eyes soft and tender. “Me too.” Armie breathed out a sigh of relief. 

He picked up a sachet of lube and tore it open. He drizzled the contents over a palm, slicked a finger through it. “You ready?” he asked. 

“I’ve been ready for _days._ ” Tim spread his legs wider and closed his eyes. 

Armie held his breath as he reached down and found Tim’s hole again, this time with his hand. He massaged the lube in a circle gently, earning a soft whine from Tim, and then he pushed. 

His heart sped up as Tim’s silky heat swallowed his finger, seeming to suck it inside. He encountered the briefest of resistance and then Tim moaned, moving his hips to a better angle. 

“Okay?” Armie asked, his voice cracking with a surge of desire. 

“Mmmhmm,” Tim pressed his lips together and shifted his hips. “More.”

Armie began to slide his finger in and out slowly, relaxing as Tim’s body opened for him. After a minute, he added more lube and then worked a second finger in beside the first. He paused when Tim’s mouth scrunched in obvious pain. 

Tim’s eyes opened. “Why did you stop?” he asked. 

“I’m hurting you,” Armie said. 

“No you’re not,” Tim said. “Just a burn. Keep going.”

Armie pressed his lips together, hating the thought he was having but being too afraid to not express it. “Timmy, if this burns, I’m not sure...I’m a lot bigger than two fingers.”

“Hey…” Tim pushes himself up on his elbows. “It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tim fell back on the pillow and wriggled his hips, pushing himself further onto Armie’s fingers. 

“Then keep going, because I swear to god, Armie…” he paused a second, and then said, “you’ll kill me if you stop.”

Armie half moaned at the feel of Tim on his fingers, and then his words registered, and he snorted.

“Fuck you very much for saying that,” Armie muttered.

“That’s the idea, I thought.” Tim smiled and then his mouth fell open as Armie slid a third finger inside. “Oh. Fuck.”

Armie watched Tim carefully as he pumped his fingers in and out and stretched him open. Tim seemed to be handling it well, so he wrapped his other hand around Tim’s cock and began to stroke, bringing him to full hardness once more. Tim writhed on the bed, gasping. Armie pushed further inside, feeling for the spot he had hit with his tongue earlier. 

When he found it, Tim’s hips bucked so hard Armie’s fingers slid out. Tim whined, and wiggled towards him, seeking them again. But when Armie pressed up against Tim once more, Tim’s eyes opened.

“Wait,” he said.

Armie paused. “What? What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I’m too close,” Tim said. “I need you _now_ , Armie. Before it’s too late.”

Armie was rolling a condom on and shifting into position before he even consciously understood was Tim had said, the neediness in his voice and the tension in his body spurring Armie on. When his cock bumped up against Tim, he stilled.  

“Ready?” he whispered. His throat ached with tension. 

Timmy blinked up at him and nodded, biting down on his lower lip. He reached his arms up and smoothed them over Armie’s collarbone, shoulders, and chest. 

“Yes,” Tim whispered back. 

Armie eased inside, feeling his arms and hips shaking with the need to move faster. But he held himself back, taking it as slow as possible. 

Tim whimpered, then spread his legs wider and hooked his feet behind Armie’s back, pulling him closer. He slid his hands back to Armie’s shoulders and pulled him down. 

Armie lost his balance and was suddenly fully seated inside Tim. The move drew a groan from Tim, and Armie hurried to apologize. 

“No, shut up,” Tim said. “Fuck, it’s so good. Is it good?”

Tension evaporating from his neck and back, Armie lowered his forehead to Tim’s and nodded. “Better than anything,” he murmured. 

He shifted his hips, and they both moaned. Armie began to move in earnest, slowly at first and then faster. Pleasure whipped through him, but more than that, he felt a languid warmth spread through him from head to toe. He buried his face in Tim’s neck and breathed in deeply. 

“Tim,” he whispered on the exhale. 

“Armie,” was the reply. Tim elongated the “A” and the “i,” making it seem like the chorus of a song from the heavens. Their lips found each other and they sealed away any further words. 

Armie felt like he should feel more urgent, and while he could sense his orgasm beginning to build he had a sense that he was moving through a perfect dream and didn’t want it to end. 

He was with Tim. _Timmy_. It was even better than he imagined, and everything faded away...all the worries, every anxious thought or self-doubt. It was all Timmy, pulsing around him and taking over everything. 

_I love you._

As soon as Armie thought the words, they echoed in the air around him, a breathy utterance that mingled with the harsh gasps of arousal. _Fuck_ , had he said them out loud? Or just thought them so hard, felt them so powerfully, that it almost seemed like he had?

Tim didn’t alter the rhythm of his hips, or pull away, or otherwise seem to have noticed. He continued to suck at Armie’s neck and moan softly in his ear, breath hitching each time Armie pressed deep inside. It must have been in Armie’s head, then. 

Then Tim clutched at him so hard Armie grunted in pain, and he was clenching around Armie as he let out a strangled moan, shooting his release between them. 

“Oh, _fuck,_ Timmy.” Armie cried out and snapped his hips forward one last time, groaning through his own release. 

He collapsed on top of Tim, and they were both breathing harshly. Armie turned his head into Tim’s neck, placing gentle kisses on the soft skin there, and Tim hummed. 

“Doing okay?” Armie asked, between kisses. 

“Mmmmm. So much okay,” Tim murmured. He swiveled his neck until he could meet Armie’s lips. “You?”

“So much okay,” Armie echoed. He slid off of Tim and onto his side, pulling Tim with him and cuddling him close. Tim made a happy sound. 

“I think this is my favorite,” Tim said quietly. 

“Your favorite what?”

“My favorite thing we’ve done. Ever.” Tim smiled against Armie’s chin before kissing it gently. 

“Better than the obstacle course?” Armie asked, smiling in return. 

“So much better.”

“Better than the massages?”

“Yes. But we could combine the two.”

“Better than making the movie?” Armie didn’t know why he had asked that. 

“Well, yeah,” Tim said. “I got to touch you then but not...not…”

“I know what you mean.” was Armie’s whispered response. 

Armie went quiet for a while, listening to Tim’s breathing slow. He sighed in contentment, felt the heaviness of sleep settle over him, and drifted off. 

He woke in the dark a few hours later, blinking blindly and seized by a sudden panic. Tim was still nestled in his arms, snoring, his curls scratching Armie’s neck. Armie stroked his hands up and down Tim’s back, relaxing when Tim sighed and snuggled closer. 

_I never want to give this up,_ Armie thought. His stomach rolled and his chest tightened at the knowledge that he would have to. 

That thought kept him awake. The night bled past until the inky black of the room gave way to shades of grey. Feeling suddenly restless, he gently unwound himself from Tim and stood. He tucked the blankets around Tim’s frame, smiling at the way he scrunched into a ball beneath them, seeking warmth even while asleep. 

Quietly, Armie made his way onto the lanai. He was still naked, but at this hour, with the purpley-blue bands on the horizon just beginning to tease of sunrise, no one else was around. 

He lowered himself onto the edge of the plunge pool and dangled his feet in the cool water. He stared out into the semi-darkness, letting the still of the night wrap around him, seeking to quieten his prickling nerves. He breathed in an out, and as he thought, the sky lightened. Across the sand, the ocean was calm. The smallest of waves gently rolled onto the beach, and the surface barely rippled as it glistened in the rising sun. 

He hung his head, unable to take comfort in the scene before him. All he could think about was how royally fucked he was. How had he gotten himself here? A mental place he had sworn he would avoid, if there was anything — anything — he could do to avoid it. 

But he had walked right in, ignoring all of his internal warnings and better sense in favor of...well. He supposed it wasn’t that shocking. It would be a better man than he was who could resist Timmy.  

He tried to imagine living without this now that he had had it, and found it impossible. Having tasted the thing he wanted most in the world, looking at the prospect of a life without Tim in his arms, in his bed, in his heart...his mouth felt like it was filled with sand. 

Armie closed his eyes, feeling them heat and prickle. He wasn’t sure he could go _back_. Back to being Tim’s best friend, his affectionate brother, and nothing more. 

But what choice did he have? The alternative was to not have Tim in his life at all, and that was…

The sound of the sliding door opening brought Armie’s head up and his eyes open. 

“Hey.” Tim spoke softly and then was by his side, dropping onto the ledge next to him, equally naked, concern coloring his face. “What are you doing out here?”

Faced with soft curls and wide green eyes, it took Armie a moment to find his voice and make his lips curve into some semblance of a smile. “Just watching the sunrise.”

Tim leaned into him, then turned his head and traced his nose along Armie’s shoulder. “Was it nice?” he asked. 

“Yeah.” Armie resisted — somehow — the urge to dip his face into Tim’s curls. “It was...perfect.”

“Good. Next time wake me up. I’ll watch it with you.”

_Next time._ Armie’s heart twisted and tore. There would be no next time. Next time would mean that they would continue to do this, to be physical while still remaining friends. And Armie knew, without any doubt at all, that he couldn’t do that. 

It would kill him, cell by cell. Slowly, painfully, inevitably. 

Then when Tim found someone to love for real? He would die all over again. 

But all he said was, “Okay.”

“Come back to bed,” Tim whispered. “We still have a few hours before we have to go.”

Armie let Tim pull him to his feet, let Tim lead him back into the villa, let Tim wrap around him and kiss him, a deep, heady kiss that was filled with promises neither of them intended to keep. 

He’d take these last few hours. And then he’d find a way — some way, any way — to move on. 

Art by [Chalamazed](https://twitter.com/chalamazed)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It wasn’t healthy, what he was doing. He knew that. Living on booze, video clips of Tim, and memories of a weekend vacation could not sustain him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this has been a ride and a half!
> 
> I continue to be so grateful for the love this story has gotten. So grateful, in fact — and having so much fun with it — that I’ve got a story of similar tone and style waiting in the wings and crying to be let out. 
> 
> Thanks especially to blueishdesire, without whose prompt request this story would not have come to be. Love you lots ;)
> 
> There is one more tiny epilogue left. Watch for it. 100% fiction. Probably.

Art by blueishdesire

* * *

 

Armie stared dumbly at the empty bottle in his hands. He could have sworn it had been half full the last time he picked it up. He shook it, as if the absent amber liquid would suddenly re-materialize, but it remained stubbornly empty. 

With a frustrated sigh, he set the bottle back on the table a little harder than he intended. He tipped his glass back one last time, letting the last little dribble of scotch trickle onto his tongue, and then he set the glass down beside the bottle. 

How long had he been drinking today? Since maybe noon, and it was...he reached for his phone to check the time and was momentarily confused when he couldn’t find it. Then he remembered he had put it away somewhere after scotch number...three, maybe...to help avoid the urge to touch it. To help him resist the urge to listen to old voicemail messages and read old texts. To help him stay sane. Where had he put it? He couldn’t remember. 

Was he drunk? Armie moved his tongue around in his mouth, shook his head, blinked a few times. 

Maybe. Some. How drunk? Not drunk enough to pass out, unfortunately. Too drunk to drive and get more booze in order to _get_ drunk enough to pass out. He took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut until he saw purple haze in the blackness behind his eyelids, and then opened them. 

Maybe he was drunk enough to watch the video again. 

He reached for the remote control on autopilot, as if even thinking about doing it made him helpless to escape it. How many times had he watched it in the three weeks since his return from Isla Deseo? He had lost count, or he had never kept count at all. Too many times, that was clear. It hadn’t left his player since the day he had arrived home and popped it in to see exactly what it was. 

It wasn’t healthy, what he was doing. He knew that. Living on booze, video clips of Tim, and memories of a weekend vacation could not sustain him. 

But he felt like a broken puzzle piece. He had gone to Isla Deseo and come back with his ends twisted, and he couldn’t quite fit himself into his old life, the one where he was a newly divorced father secretly in love with his best friend. It didn’t fit anymore. _He_ didn’t fit.  

Getting to live — however temporarily — in his dream had made this waking up unbearable. 

Armie hesitated, his thumb on the play button, and closed his eyes. He had relived every moment of the weekend over and over, including the last morning. The last time he had seen or spoken with Timmy. 

_Tim had taken his hand. Led him back inside with a coy smile. Kissed him senseless. Taken him to bed. They had come together again, this time in silence, broken only by their mingled breaths and the sound of skin sliding against skin. There were small gasps and sighs but nothing more, as if they were both afraid to break the quiet of the morning and burst the bubble that contained them._

_As Armie’s hands and mouth relearned the curve of Tim’s hip, and hollow of his pelvis, the softness of his belly, he was gentle, handling Tim as though he — and the moment they shared — were as fragile as the yolk of an egg, capable of being ruined by one clumsy touch._

_While the night before had been everything Armie had wanted it to be, the morning was so much more._

_After, they lay tangled together for an hour without speaking, fingers delicately stroking along muscle, lips brushing cheeks and temples and eyelids. The room grew brighter as the sun fully seated itself in the sky._

_Finally, with a long sigh, Tim acknowledged the time and they began to get ready to leave. They showered together, letting the steam build up around them as they made out against the tile. Breakfast arrived, courtesy of the resort. As they dressed and packed, they made light conversation (“Harper is back in school soon” “Momma is on this new graveyard kick, she’s driving me nuts with it” “are you planning to see the new Bale movie?”), and then, suddenly, it was time to leave._

_The golf cart came to pick them up and bring them back to the main building, where they sat down at the concierge desk and completed a guest survey._

_“Gentlemen,” the concierge named Louis said as they finished, “we’re so glad you could join us this weekend. We hope you’ll be back before too long.”_

Next week, if you’ll have us, _Armie thought. He was feeling like Isla Deseo might exist out of time, as a pocket of space where the rules were suspended and he was allowed to have the things he wanted, however temporarily. The thought of leaving, going back to the real world, was terrifying._

_Armie glanced over at Timmy, who was looking at his hands, hands that were twisting together in his lap._

_“I hope so,” Armie said. The concierge didn’t need to know he was lying. He knew he’d never return here with anyone else. Tim turned and flashed him a small smile._

_“It was really great,” Tim said. “We had an amazing time.”_

_“I’m glad,” Louis said. He held out two small, flat, square packages, one for each of them. “We have prepared some memories for you. To look back on and smile.”_

_They had gone out to meet the car to the airport then. The ride seemed short in comparison to their arrival, and Armie was grateful. For the first time ever in their relationship, he felt like he didn’t know what to say to Tim, and that fact left him feeling on edge, like a frayed power cord that could sizzle or snap at any moment._

_At the airport, they checked in and moved toward the gate. The hour wait was spent sitting side by side in the uncomfortable plastic chairs, scrolling through their phones, catching up on social media and making occasional small talk. Tim’s arm rested solidly against Armie’s, and he leaned into it. At one point, Tim dropped his head onto Armie’s shoulder, and a final thread snapped in Armie’s hold on his heart._

_He was fucked, and was never going to recover._

_Tim’s flight to New York left first, and as they announced the boarding, they both stood. Tim grinned up at Armie._

_“So,” he said._

_“So,” Armie replied. “Have a safe flight and stuff. Let me know when you get home safe.”_

_“Yeah. You too. Call me when you get there.”_

_“It’ll be late,” Armie said. “I’ve got this fucking layover in Atlanta.”_

_“I don’t care what time it is, asshole. I’m gonna want to hear your voice.” Tim tilted his head to the side, and a curl tumbled out of order. “This was...amazing. I’m really glad you came, Armie.”_

_“Me too,” Armie said honestly. He was. He wouldn’t trade the weekend for anything, no matter what the fallout was. “I had a lot of fun. Thanks for inviting me, when you could have had anyone you wanted here.”_

_Something flickered across Tim’s face. “I did. Have who I wanted here.”_

_“Right. Well.” Armie looked over at the small crowd that was lined up to get on the tram to the plane. “You’d better get going.”_

_“I...okay.” Tim frowned slightly, and then he wobbled forward and then backward, as if he couldn’t quite figure out which way to move. “When will I see you next?”_

_Armie wanted to say “as soon as humanly possible.” He wanted to tell Tim not to go at all; or to go home, get some sleep, and come straight to LA. Or, fuck it, Armie would come to New York. Instead, he shrugged._

_“Not sure. I’ve got to settle in with the kids and make sure our routine stays stable, so…”_

_“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” Tim bit his lip. “Um. I should go.”_

_He looked at Armie expectantly, and Armie’s arms lifted of their own accord, spreading wide in invitation. Looking relieved, Tim stepped forward and fell into them, wrapping his arms around Armie’s waist and holding him close._

_Armie breathed Tim in, savoring every last sensation. The smell of shampoo and a slightly sweet scent that was all Tim, the feel of his lean frame pressed against Armie, the way his soft curls crushed against his jaw. He tried to memorize all of it so he’d at least have that in the time to come._

_Tim pulled back, but not away, and tilted his face up toward Armie’s. His lips parted slightly and his breath tickled Armie’s chin._

_“One for the road?” Tim asked, a tremor in his voice._

_Armie could sooner have sprouted wings and a tail and the ability to breathe fire before he could have refused Tim’s request._

_He lowered his head, meeting Tim’s lips just barely. He lingered there, brushing softly back and forth, gently grazing the silky skin with his own. Tim sighed, and moved in, increasing the pressure a single notch. Then he opened his mouth and licked at Armie’s lower lip._

_Armie let his own mouth fall open, accepting Tim’s advance. Tim’s tongue slid into his mouth, gliding against his with the tender certainty of someone who had been kissing him for decades rather than just a couple of months years ago and a couple of days now. He found himself tightening his grip on Tim, pulling their bodies together, and Tim yielded, melting into him with a soft moan of contentment._

_For a second, it felt_ real _. Like they were lovers, partners, who were parting ways reluctantly, rather than friends who were sharing one last illicit kiss before shoving it all under the rug and trying to move forward._

_Then the loudspeakers blared a final boarding call, and they broke apart. Tim blinked at Armie and smiled._

_“I gotta go,” he said. “Call me, right? As soon as you’re home.”_

_“Yeah,” Armie agreed. “Go, don’t miss your flight.”_

_Tim had picked up his backpack and was bounding across the tile and out the glass doors onto the tarmac. He turned at the last second and waved._

_And then he was gone._

_Armie spent the next hour looking for purpose. He bought a bag of pretzel sticks from a vendor, ate two, and discarded the rest. He bought a cup of coffee that tasted like dishwater, loaded it with cream and sugar so that it tasted like sweet creamy dishwater, and discarded it. He paged through a pulp novel, a magazine, a newspaper, but couldn’t make himself focus on the words. Finally, he slumped into a chair, stared at the wall, and waited out the hour until his flight was called._

_The journey home was long. Armie spent most of it trying and failing to sleep, trying and failing not to think about Timmy. His mind kept drifting, against his will, to moments from the weekend: Timmy waiting for him in the airport, chewing on his hoodie string, Timmy taking his hand as they got out of the cab at the resort, kissing Timmy in the ocean for the first time in years, collapsing on the mat after the obstacle course, cuddling in bed, and, of course, that last incredible night._

_As he went over and over the weekend in his mind, he knew two things. First, that he had gotten to taste his dream and it had been better than he had ever imagined. Second, that the hangover from re-entry into_ normal _was going to kill him._

_When he finally unlocked the door to his condo that night and dropped his bags on the floor, he stood in the dark, silent space clutching his phone. Two texts from Timmy had come in during his last flight. One was a reminder — “Don’t forget, call me when you get home no matter what time it is!”_

_The other was heartbreaking in its simplicity: A photo of Tim’s bedroom, an empty bed, and the caption, “Miss you already.”_

_Armie pulled up Tim’s info and sat on the sofa, his finger hovering over the call button, for twenty minutes. In the end, he switched over to text._

_He wrote, “Finally got home, and I’m wiped. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” Then, after a moment, he added, “Miss you too.”_

He didn’t talk to Tim the next day. Or the day after that, or the day after that. 

Tim called, plenty of times. Tim texted, plenty of times. Each time, Armie couldn’t decide how to respond. The longer he delayed, the harder it got, until he just made the decision to ignore it entirely until he could deal. He stopped listening to voicemails, so he has a string of unheard messages, at least one a day, from the past couple of weeks. Tim’s texts got sparser but more concerned as time wore on. 

_“Dude, where are you? Why haven’t you responded?”_

_“I guess you’re busy with the kids? Just let me know you’re okay.”_

_“Liz said she saw you yesterday and you’re fine. Did you lose your phone?”_

_“Okay, I’m legit worried you fell on a grilling fork and are bleeding out in your kitchen.”_

Then there was the anger.

_“If you don’t want to talk to me, just fucking say so.”_

And something besides anger. 

_“Can I at least ask what I did? Maybe I know, but just...tell me?”_

That last one had Armie toss his phone to the side and run for the toilet, where he emptied the contents of his stomach.

He was an asshole of the worst order. He had promised Tim — _promised_ — that their friendship wouldn’t change after they crossed the lines in Isla Deseo. And here he was, breaking that promise immediately and hurting Tim in the process. He could only hope that Tim would eventually forgive him. He just needed time to readjust, clear out his system, detox. Then he could apologize, make excuses, and they could pick up where they had been before the weekend.

He hoped it wasn’t too late for that. 

He saw his kids every few days, but in between he kept company with bottles of Jack and TX and did everything he could to not think so damned much. He watched hours and hours of home improvement television and played mindless games on his phone. And when he couldn’t resist — like now — he put in the DVD from the resort.

The package the concierge had handed them each at checkout turned out to be a short video montage of their time on the island. The resort photographer had come around every so often to snap a photo, and so there were still shots of them on the beach, at dinner, in the jazz club. In each one, Armie had his arm around Tim and Tim was leaning in. They looked, for all intents and purposes, like a real couple. They had played their parts convincingly.

The part that killed Armie, however, were the intake interviews. Clips from the resort’s interview of him and Tim were edited together and again, told the story of a real couple in love. Armie cringed listening to himself wax on about why he loved Tim. He wondered what Tim thought when he saw it, if he was impressed with Armie’s “acting” abilities or if he suspected Armie wasn’t acting at all.

Then there were the clips of Tim’s interview. When the interviewer asked Tim to tell her about their relationship, he got this dreamy look on his face and said, in a voice that was pitched lower and raspier than Tim’s normal conversational tone, “I barely remember what it was like not to know him. It’s like, the moment we met I knew that he was this missing piece that just...fit. I became more _me_ when we met. So everything that has happened since, it has felt inevitable. Like, oh, of _course_. This is what I was waiting for, and I didn’t even know it. He’s perfect for me, and I think I’m perfect for him. I hope he does too.”

Sometimes, Armie would watch that clip over and over and pretend it was real. Other times, he’d scrutinize it looking for Tim’s acting tells; the micro-expressions and hand gestures that said, “I’m pretending.” Sometimes he thought he found them. Sometimes he couldn’t.

Armie had backed up the clip for the sixth time when he heard his phone ringing from somewhere in the kitchen. He looked around in confusion, and then remembered — again — that he had hidden it. He had put the ringer on so he wouldn’t miss a call from Liz about the kids. This wasn’t Liz’s ring, however. It was Timmy’s.

Should he answer it? He hesitated long enough that it stopped, and he relaxed back against the sofa cushions. He was about to hit the play button when the ringing started again.

This time, he made it all the way into the kitchen before he hesitated, and the ringing stopped. He waited, and sure enough, it began again.

Damn. He was probably going to have to answer. Three calls in a row might mean an emergency. He couldn’t ignore Tim in an emergency.

Suddenly panicked, he opened and closed several drawers before he found the phone buried in the cutlery. Tossing a butter knife aside, he grabbed the phone just as it went silent. Though he stood there, waiting for it to ring a fourth time, it didn’t. It sat quietly in his hand, mocking him.

He took the phone with him back to the living room and sank onto the sofa. He wasn’t ready. He was trying to detox and — okay, watching this video over and over wasn’t helping, fine — talking to Tim right now would destroy any progress he had made. 

Who the fuck was he kidding? He hadn’t made any progress. 

Deciding that watching the video again was a bad idea when he didn’t have any more booze in the house, Armie shut off the television. He was just about to go see whether he had food or would need to order in when there was a knock on the door. 

He blinked at it in surprise, and then stared at his phone. Had he ordered food already and forgotten? With a sigh, he moved across the condo and pulled the door open to investigate. 

As soon as he opened the door, he almost — almost — wished he hadn’t. Armie’s stomach flipped upside down, his heart sped up, and the bitter taste of adrenaline filled his mouth.  

Timmy stood on the other side, his hands shoved in the pockets of tan cargo shorts, the sleeves of a black sweater shoved up to his elbows. His face was a stormcloud, his mouth twisted into a frown and his eyes shooting daggers. 

“Good, you’re alive,” he said. Then he squinted at Armie, leaning closer, and the anger disappeared, replaced only by bewildered concern. “Though just barely, it looks like.”

“Tim,” Armie managed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m here because you’ve been ignoring me for weeks, without explanation,” Tim said. “And you don’t do that. Not to me. Unless something is wrong. Can I come in?”

“I...yeah. I guess.” Armie swallowed and stepped out of the way. Tim slunk inside, his shoulders hunched and his head tilted down towards his feet. 

He stopped just inside the door and waited for Armie to close it behind him before he looked up. His eyes scanned the space.

“This is nice,” he said. “You like it here?”

Armie looked around, trying to see his place through Tim’s eyes. He’d been here only a few months, having traded in the small apartment he had been crashing in during the separation for a larger, more permanent place with space for the kids. It was clean and open and modern, and he did like it. 

“Yeah,” Armie said. He shoved his phone in his pocket and then backed away, trying to put some distance between them before he gave in and grabbed Tim into his arms. “Can...can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure,” Tim said. Then he jerked his chin towards the side table with the empty scotch bottle and the empty glass beside it. “If you haven’t already drank it all.”

“Oh.” Armie ran a hand through his hair. “Right. I’m out. I can get you water or something though.”

“That’s okay.” Tim shuffled his feet and then sighed. He lifted his head and looked Armie right in the eye with a gaze so direct and accusing Armie felt himself shrink. “So. Let’s get this over with.”

“Get what? Over with?” Armie asked. 

“The part where we decide we aren’t going to hang out anymore and why.” He tossed his hair out of his face and jutted his chin out, his mouth settling into a defiant line. “I mean, I guess it’s obvious but we should say it.”

Armie’s heart sank to his feet. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, when they started to smudge the lines between reality and fantasy. Tim was done with him. It was going to be too hard to move forward. He knew it. 

He just didn’t think he could survive it. 

“Let’s...sit,” he said, conscious of the way his legs were shaking. He led the way over to the sofa and sat on one end. Tim followed and sat stiffly on the other.

Neither of them spoke for long minutes. The sun had begun to set, casting a warm glow around the room. When Armie dared to look over at Tim, he nearly gasped at the way the light caught his curls. Then he leaned closer, peering at his face, at the dark circles under his eyes. 

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Armie said abruptly, concern for Tim pushing everything else to the back burner. 

Tim glanced up at him, and then back down at his hands. “Not much, no,” he muttered. 

“Why?”

“Why?” Tim shook his head. “Come on, Armie. You fucking... _disappeared_. You were supposed to call, and instead I get this one text and then...nothing.”

“Sorry,” Armie whispered. “I should have just—“

“Should have told me you didn’t want to talk to me anymore? Yeah. You should have.” Tim frowned at him. “I was so confused. Because you said — but then you — it’s just that after Isla I was so _sure_ that —“ He cut himself off and looked away. “Shit. I promised myself I wasn’t going to do this.”

“I didn’t...I wasn’t…” Armie cleared his throat. “It’s not true that I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” That was not the truth _at all_ , and he needed Tim to know that. 

“Then why...why are you ignoring me? After…” His lips pressed together. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. You _promised_ me, Armie. You promised things wouldn’t change.”

“I know,” Armie said. “I meant it. I still mean it. I just needed some...time, I guess.”

“Time for what?”

“Time to...adjust.” Armie dropped his face in his hands and rubbed his cheeks. He decided to just be honest. If he was about to lose Tim, then...he had nothing else to lose. And if he had any hope of resurrecting their friendship as it was, he needed to be straight with the kid. “That weekend was a lot, and I’m having a hard time going back.”

“I knew it,” Tim muttered. “I knew I had fucked it all up by dragging you there...wait. What do you mean, going back?”

“Going back,” Armie said. “To before the weekend. To being just best friends and not...not being able to be with you anymore the way we were on the island.” He sighed. “That meant something to me, Tim. Beyond just a good time. And I’m having trouble letting that go.”

Tim stared at him. Some of the concern and frustration smoothed off his face. 

“Why do you have to let it go?” Tim asked. 

“Because...because it wasn’t real.” Armie frowned. “I knew it wasn’t, the whole time, but I guess I just let myself get carried away and...it’s my fault. So I’ve been trying to fix it. Trying to get my head back in order so I could look at you and not…not…”

Suddenly Tim grinned, smile lighting up his face and erasing the tired circles. 

“Armie,” he said. “You big, dumb idiot.”

“Hey,” Armie said in protest. 

“You _are_ an idiot,” he said. “You don’t have to go _back_.”

“I don’t?” Armie tried to make sense of what was happening but it was hard with Tim aiming his toothy grin directly at him.

“No. You don’t.”

“Tim…” Armie shifted to face Tim squarely. “I don’t think you understand. I wasn’t just having fun with you or whatever. I’m...I’m in love with you.”

Armie stilled, having said it out loud, feeling it hanging in the air like a balloon. He waited for Tim to pop it and put him in his place. 

But instead, Tim slid across the sofa and climbed into his lap. He was overwhelmed by having Tim in his space again, Tim looping his arms around Armie’s neck, Tim laughing and shaking his head, curls flying.

“Fucking _finally,_ ” he said. “Took you long enough to say it back.”

“I...what?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I already told you I loved you, you asshole. When you didn’t respond, I thought you just weren’t ready.”

“When did you tell me that?” Armie’s brows drew together in confusion. He would remember if Tim has said _I love you_. That’s not the kind of thing you forget, when the man you love more than anything tells you he feels the way you do. 

“That last night. When we were...I said it. I know you heard it, because you paused for a split second.”

That night...when Armie had thought he heard those words, had thought he had accidentally said them out loud. That had been—

“That was you?” Armie asked. 

“ _Yes_ , that was me. Who else was there?” Tim giggled. 

“I thought...I thought maybe I had said it out loud, because I was thinking it. Or that I was thinking it so hard it only felt like I heard it.”

“Oh, Armie.” Tim sighed. “We have to work on that...you being so sure you don’t get to be happy that you don’t see it when it’s being offered to you right in front of your face.”

Armie finally wrapped his arms around Tim. He swallowed. 

“What are you offering me?” he asked softly. 

“Me,” Tim said. “Us. Not as a game, or an act, or for fun. For real.”

Armie’s pulse began to race. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I’ve been in love with you for fucking ever. I was just waiting for you to catch up.” 

“To catch _up_?” Armie grinned now, the smile spreading stupidly across his face as a combination of relief and gratitude and elation flooded him. “Tim, I’ve been in love with you practically since the day we met.”

“Well, then...it took you long enough to show it.” 

“ _You_ could have said something,” Armie said. 

“You were _married_.”

“I’m not anymore.”

“No, you’re not anymore.” Tim’s gaze dropped to Armie’s mouth.  “Hey, I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

Instead of answering, Armie surged forward and captured Tim’s lips with his own. It was like coming home, and they sank into each other immediately. Timmy placed his hands on Armie’s jaw, stroked the stubble there, and shifted to straddle his lap. Armie slid his palms along Tim’s thighs down to his knees and back up to his hips, yanking him closer. 

Tim dragged his mouth away from Armie’s lips and kissed his way along Armie’s jaw to his ear. 

“I love you,” he said, clearly and precisely. “Did you hear me that time?”

Armie buries his face in Tim’s neck, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a shudder. “I heard it,” he murmured. “I love you, too.”

Tim squirmed closer, licking and nibbling at Armie’s ear. “Thank fucking god.”

“I’m sorry,” Armie said. “For disappearing.”

“Yeah, that was shit. Don’t you dare do that again. Just _talk_ to me next time.” Tim smacked Armie’s shoulder. 

Armie sucked at the soft spot of skin at the juncture of Tim’s neck and shoulder. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks for flying out here to set me straight.”

“Anytime.”

Armie turned and laid Tim out on the sofa, and lowered himself on top, propping himself up on his elbows and smiling down at Tim, at his sparkling eyes and shining pink lips curved into a mirroring smile. He could hardly believe this man was in love with him. That it wasn’t pretend, and he was actually going to get to be with Tim, for real. 

He skimmed a hand down Tim’s side and felt a punch of desire at the way Tim arched into his touch. 

“Thanks for coming to Isla Deseo with me,” Tim breathed. 

“Thanks for inviting me. And for getting drunk enough to enter that contest.”

“Yeah. About that…” Tim giggled as Armie nuzzled onto his neck again, rubbing his jaw under Tim’s chin. “I wasn’t really drunk.”

“High?” Armie asked. 

“Nope. Just...wishing for something.”

As Armie kissed Tim again, this time without any reservations or doubt, he had a fleeting, grateful thought that sometimes, if you’re lucky, wishes _can_ in fact come true. 


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, a fluffy little epilogue because I couldn’t leave the boys without one last little bit of joy. 
> 
> I hope it brings you a smile.

Armie leaned back in his chair and sighed, resting a hand on his stomach. His fork and knife were laid to the side, and only the barest traces of port wine reduction remained on his plate. 

“What’s the matter, old man?” Tim asked from across the table, a glint of mischief in his eye. “Time was, you could polish off two of those rib-eyes and then half of my dinner as a chaser.”

Armie kicked Tim’s shins under the table. “Someone insisted on ordering a bushel of conch fritters on the beach just a couple of hours ago, and they’re still taking up real estate. I’m not naming names, but it was you.“ He grinned at the memory of the delight in Tim’s eyes as the beach server delivered the basket of fried goodies.

“I seem to remember that last year, someone made fun of me for being unaware of conch fritters, because they are insanely good. Seems to me you can’t complain about me agreeing with you.” Tim returned the kick and then slid his foot up Armie’s calf.

They were interrupted by a waiter coming to clear away their dinner plates. “Dessert, gentlemen?” he asked.

Tim glanced across the table. “What do you think? Can you squeeze anything else in there?”

Armie considered for a moment. He wanted dessert. He wanted Tim to order dessert, but he didn’t want to push it. He could wait on his plans, if necessary. They had all week. 

When Armie had planned this return trip to Isla Deseo, a little more than a year from their first visit, he had wanted to go all out. Stay longer, take advantage of all of the recreation and relaxation, be able to enjoy each other for real now that they were a true couple and not just pretending to be one. 

It had been hard to keep the trip a secret from Timmy while he was planning it. Timmy knew he was hiding things, and it stressed him out. It broke Armie’s heart a little to see him worrying in silence, afraid to ask what was going on, but seeing Timmy’s face light up and then soften immediately when he revealed the trip at their anniversary dinner made the subterfuge worth it. 

The best part? He wasn’t quite done with his surprise. He just hoped Tim would be as excited about this as he had been about returning to the island that had finally brought them together. 

“I think I could manage a little dessert,” he said now. “I’ll have the mango crème brûlée,” he said to the waiter.

“Certainly. And for you?” The waiter looked to Tim, and Armie crossed his fingers.

“The profiteroles,” Tim said. “Extra chocolate sauce.”

The waiter retreated, and Armie smiled at Tim. “You get profiteroles everywhere,” he said. 

“Yeah, and you get crème brûlée everywhere,” Tim countered. 

“This is _mango_ crème brûlée,” Armie said. “That is definitely not available everywhere. But I’m not criticizing you. I think it’s cute. You always get chocolate sauce on your nose.”

Tim had the decency to blush. 

“Hey,” Armie said. He leaned across the table and slid his hands into Tim’s. “There’s something I wanted to say. I know you were worried the past few weeks, knowing I was hiding something from you. That’s partially my fault because I apparently suck at being sneaky. But I need you to believe that I’m not...I’d never hide something bad from you.”

Tim blinked at him in surprise. “I...I know that,” he said. “I believe you. I think sometimes…” he sighed and squeezed Armie’s hands. “Sometimes I still can’t believe this is real. Like, I’m afraid I’ll wake up and find out it was all a dream.”

“It wasn’t,” Armie said. “It isn’t. It’s real. And it was always real, even when we were pretending to pretend. That’s the thing. Our real anniversary is a full month earlier than we celebrated it, in my opinion. Because the way I see it, as soon as you took my hand the first day we were here...I was _in_.”

“Me too,” Tim said. He smiled, and the love Armie saw in that smile stopped his heart. “And I’m in for good. You know that, right? I think you do.”

“I was hoping you’d say that, actually.” Armie sat up, letting go of one of Tim’s hands as the waiter approached with their desserts so that he could set the plates down in front of them. He grinned. As he’d worked out ahead of time with the manager, the engagement ring he’d designed for Tim — platinum, a series of linked fleurs-de-lis accented with tiny precious gemstones — was perched atop one of his profiteroles. 

He raised his eyes to Tim’s and saw Tim watching him. He hadn’t looked at his dessert. 

“Looks great,” Armie said. “Why don’t you dig in?”

“You first,” Tim said. He looked nervous all of a sudden, his hand flexing in Armie’s and his foot jiggling against Armie’s under the table. 

Armie was about to insist that Tim look down, when he glanced at his crème brûlée and forgot to breathe. 

Sitting in the middle, nestled in the mango sauce, was a ring that he hadn’t designed. It was platinum, with a band of black diamonds running around the center. 

He looked up at Tim, who was chewing on his lip. 

“Timmy,” he asked quietly, “what’s that?”

Tim took a deep breath. “I told you, I’m in for good. And so, I guess I want to ask you...are you? Armie, will you—“

“Wait.” Armie put his hand up. Tim’s face fell, and Armie rushed ahead. “Just wait a second. Look down, okay?”

Tim dropped his gaze, looking grateful to do so. But then he squinted at his dessert. Armie felt a grin spread across his face as Tim daintily lifted his ring from the pastry. 

“Is this...are you…” Tim looked up, his jaw working and unable to quite form a sentence. Armie grinned harder. 

“I’m in for good, too,” he said. “Don’t look so surprised. You heard my orientation interview last time. I’ve been gone on you since the day we met.”

“Armie.” Tim laughed. “Holy shit, I love you.”

“So my answer is yes,” Armie said. He plucked his ring out of his dessert and wiped it off. He held it out to Tim. “Make it official?”

“Yes,” Tim said. He handed his own ring, still covered in chocolate, to Armie. “I mean, my answer is yes, too. Oh, shit, I should have—“

“I got it,” Armie said, wiping off the chocolate. “Give me your hand.”

Tim held out his left hand, and Armie took it, kissed his palm, and then slipped the ring on. He waited while Tim mirrored his actions. Then he stood and yanked Tim to his feet. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmured, pulling Tim close. 

“I think people are staring,” Tim said. “And..kind of clapping.”

Armie smiled against Tim’s lips. “It wouldn’t be the first time we got applause,” he whispered. “Just the first time it wasn’t for a performance.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm onlyastoryteller on Tumblr if you need to @ me.


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